


Aggre(g/v)ation [Genderless Reader]

by Antimoany



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: DO NOT MONETISE THIS WORK, DO NOT POST THIS WORK ON OTHER SITES, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Heats, Jealous Sans, Living Together, Love, Multi, Other, Plural, Possessive Sans, Racism, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is not gendered, Reader-Insert, Reposted with Llama's express permission, Reverse Harem, There's lots of boys and only one of you, admittedly months ago but, also plural, better late than never, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 174,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antimoany/pseuds/Antimoany
Summary: You’re just an average human, going about life, trying to forge your way in the world. Fortunately, you’ve landed a nice job that pays well, you’re steadily and reliably working your way out of the debt you gained from moving to the city, and you found a great apartment (with a chill roommate, Sans, a polite skeleton monster with puns up his sleeve and an indecipherable gaze) for surprisingly little rent.Everything’s fine.And then, without warning, two more skeletons seem to show up out of nowhere at your and Sans’s shared apartment. The first to appear is Red, a hot-blooded, sharp-grinned alcoholic who isn’t shy to share his less than savoury intentions with you, with crude gestures and pick-up lines galore.And the second is a tall, broad, but quiet skeleton who immediately goes by the pseudonym Skull, sporting a huge crack in his head and a single, engorged red iris, that never seems to stop staring at you.You’re not sure why both of them won’t leave you alone, or why Sans seems so desperate to stop them from interacting with you... But hey, what harm could come from it?___This was written by Llamagoddess, not me. I'm reposting it with an ungendered reader with Llama's permission.
Relationships: Mentioned Alphyne, Sans (Horrortale)/Reader, Sans (Underfell)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader, UF!sans/Reader, ht!sans/reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	1. Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Aggre(g/v)ation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229902) by [Llama_Goddess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama_Goddess/pseuds/Llama_Goddess). 



_they told me that to make them fall in love, i had to make them laugh. but everytime they laugh, i’m the one who falls in love._

  
Sometimes, in life, you have the calm periods.

  
  


Things seem to be going wonderfully okay. Sure, there're the dreary parts of the week, the times when you hear 'Monday' and start calculating how many days off you can get before people get suspicious that you just hate Mondays and you aren’t _really_ sick. Events that make you want to throw yourself into the Mediterranean, PEOPLE who make you want to throw yourself into the Mediterranean.

  
  


But... Overall, everything is... good.

  
  


You'd struck one of those periods.

  
  


It hit you, the other day, when you were reading an email at work. You... were okay, with your current situation...? A good job with a steady income that you only had to grit your teeth through for 8 hours, a nice apartment... the world's chillest roommate.

  
  


"hey, kiddo?" Sans said, giving your shoulder a little nudge. You'd started napping on the sofa, _again._

  
  


"... Hm?" You blinked your eyes open and looked up at the lazy skeleton.

  
  


Truth be told, at first, he had NOT been the world's chillest roommate.

  
  


Sans wasn't exactly... threatening. A short (your height, to be precise), kinda roundish skeleton monster, with a fused jaw, wide eyesockets sporting tiny pricks of white light that seemed to act like pupils, and a dumb, large grin full of straight teeth. Always wearing baggy, old clothes... A constant repertoire of ridiculous dad jokes that only ever seemed to earn him a mild smile and an eye roll ready and waiting on his tongue, white bones that had the texture of a smooth pebble, yet were warm, and could flex like rubber.

  
  


Speaking of his bones... They didn't really look like human bones. Sure, his arms had a humerus and a radius and an ulna, but they were thicker, and the joints seemed to be stuck together like magnets, only touching at a few points, yet having full manoeuvrability and never falling off. From what you'd seen of his ribcage and spine the one time he'd wandered sleepily into the kitchen wearing nothing but loose jogging pants at 6am, his rounded shape was not only caused by his clothing, as his ribcage was heavy and larger than a human's, with much thicker bones, the spaces between them only just big enough to poke a finger through. It reached further down, too, and his pelvis was incredibly wide and solid, as wide as his shoulders were far apart. His spine was also WAY bigger, the thickness of your arm, at least.

  
  


He also seemed to have bones in places where humans did not. Like, his neck, where he had rings around his spine, that gave the illusion of an actual neck. And his hands, which had solid bone that formed a palm-like object.

  
  


Anyway. Back on track.

  
  


He hadn't struck you as threatening when you first went to check out the apartment. In fact, he'd seemed... pretty chill. You had no problem with monsters, so you'd been chill too, friendly, eager to move in to a great place for so little rent.

  
  


But then... when you'd actually moved in...

  
  


Suddenly, you noticed how hostile he was.

  
  


He wasn't hostile in a hot, fiery way. He was hostile in an cold, collected way, looking down at you, giving you the cold shoulder, occasionally passing little snide remarks about human culture, or humanity's tendency toward violence.

  
  


It made you... uncomfortable, to say the least. At first, you kept offering the olive branch in the hopes that he’d see you weren’t out to dust him in his sleep, but no matter _what_ you did he seemed adamant on maintaining that tight, deceivingly cheery-looking grin. It was even worse when his brother came over to visit, borderline frightening, in comparison to his younger ‘bro’ Papyrus’s bright, beamy personality, witty sarcasm and endless offers to cook friendship spaghetti with you.

  
  


... You took it as best you could. Not everything could be perfect. You were out of the house for almost 10 hours a day anyway, it was... fine. You couldn't expect to get a great apartment for little rent whilst working a good job AND having a perfect roommate.

  
  


... And then, one day, he just...

  
  


Stopped being hostile.

  
  


You woke up on the couch with a hangover and no memories of the previous night, a blanket over your body and Sans's jacket providing a makeshift pillow. Your legs were up, on the skeleton himself's LAP, his posture relaxed and face soft.

  
  


He never told you what happened that night. And ever since then, he'd just been... so friendly? So punny and sweet. Reliable, great company, genuine and... fun.

  
  


Admittedly, at first, you’d been very suspicious. This sudden goodwill and trust that seemed to come out of nowhere from his cold and calculating persona- what was he planning? No matter how much you pressed you could never get an answer out of him, the bastard was way too good at dodging questions and dancing around giving anything, immediately diverting the conversation to something else. The only thing you were ever able to get out of him was that it wasn’t sexual.

  
  


But the friendly, funny nature had worn away at you, and eventually, you just accepted that the two of you probably had a drunken bonding session and he realised you weren’t a missionary sent by the government to discover and sell his secrets.

  
  


"tired?" He asked you, leaning over your reclined form. His voice was surprisingly baritone, for someone so small.

  
  


"A little." You rubbed your eyes. "Why do you ask?"

  
  


"... wanna go to grillby's with me? i'm too lazy to make anything."

  
  


You chuckled, sitting up. "Is it a date?"

  
  


He spluttered, cheekbones flushing with a tiny smidge of blue, something you'd come to equate to a blush. He coughed, and shook his skull. “n-no, i-it's just an evening out between friends.”

  
  


"Pft. Sure, okay."

  
  


That was another thing about Sans that had once left you lost and confused, but you now just shrugged off and accepted.

  
  


Sure, you were roommates, but... sometimes, he acted like he thought you were more than that. One time, with the lingering touches and eye contact, you were certain there was at least a twinge of something there. Like, come on, the guy silently hugged you from behind while you were cooking on _more than one occasion._ What kind of normal, totally platonic roommate did that?

  
  


But he didn’t let you fool yourself for long. It was only two days into thinking he had feelings for you that the constant (obvious) friendzoning started. And after that, as soon as he gave even an _inkling_ that he liked you, he’d friendzone you to slam it down. He held your hand, and you were his ‘closest friend’. He told you that you looked beautiful in your new shirt, and then you were ‘bucko’ and ‘pally’ for almost a week. He tucked your hair behind your ear and leaned suspiciously close, and then he ‘doesn’t know what he’d do without a friend like you’.

  
  


He cupped your face, and then asked for advice on a girl he was trying to woo.

  
  


You’d seen the way he shied away from relationships that excelled any further than casual sex- hell, you’d seen how he acted around people he was interested in. You’d been next to him at a bar when he puts on his sexy tone and cracks out the designated Flirty ™ pet names... and he never acted that way with you. And even if he _did_ want anything, he was far too lazy and uncommitted to ever be a boyfriend.

  
  


So you just... accepted he didn’t like you. Let your budding crush die.

  
  


... _Besides._ You thought, resignedly one night, turning over in bed. _You didn’t want to ruin a friendship like this one._

  
  


"figured i should cheat tonight and get a burger." Sans said, back in the present moment, slipping on his blue hoodie. You chuckled, just grabbing the jacket you'd been using as a makeshift blanket and throwing it around your shoulders, zipping it up.

  
  


"So burgers are your cheat food?"

  
  


"yep."

  
  


"Sans," you gave him a look, "you eat burgers almost every day."

  
  


"what can i say?" He shrugged, grinning. "every day is my cheat day."

  
  


That earned him a mild chuckle. "Ain't that the truth. We walking?"

  
  


"yeah." His grin became a little softer. "it's a nice evening."

  
  


"Sans the skeleton, choosing to walk." You pursed your lips, opening the door. "Now I've seen it all."

  
  


"maybe i just like walking with my roommate, huh?"

  
  


“Flattering.”

  
  


As the two of you exited the apartment complex, the stairs a little gritty from so many people traversing them over the day, you in front and Sans following close behind, he started telling a ridiculously long-winded joke about two guys visiting Beethoven's grave. You rolled your eyes and let him tell it- he was surprisingly adept at comedy when he actually chose to tell a decent joke.

  
  


In fact, the joke was SO long-winded that you were already out the apartment complex and a little ways down the road, the city dark and street lights glowing warmly, when he FINALLY got to the punchline, smile wide, and tiny flickering eyelights bright.

  
  


"and the music expert said... 'don't worry about these mysterious songs coming from the grave. they're beethoven's pieces being played backwards- it's just him /decomposing/.'"

  
  


... "Oh my God." You couldn't stop the chuckle, embarrassed you didn't guess it, slapping your forehead and missing his starry-eyed look. That was ridiculous! Such a long joke for such a dumb punchline!?

  
  


"why do the norwegians put barcodes on the sides of their ships...?" He asked, giving you a little nudge with his elbow, so you'd look back up at him.

  
  


"Cus you're a piece of ship?"

  
  


"so they can..." Wink wink wink. "scandinavian."

  
  


... That one took a beat longer. "Stoop."

  
  


"how do mathematicians scold their children?"

  
  


"I don't want to know."

  
  


"'i've told you n times, i've told you n+1 times.'..."

  
  


"That's it. I'm moving out." You shoved him playfully, not so hard as to push him into the road but hard enough to make him stumble a little.

  
  


His cheeky eyelights were still focused on you. "counting in binary is as easy as 01 10 11."

  
  


"I hate you."

  
  


"your turn, now." He nudged you. "tell me a joke."

  
  


You gave him a look. "Sans. No."

  
  


"teeellll meeee a jookkeee."

  
  


fUCk. You knew you shouldn't encourage him. If you told a joke now, he'd never stop. You KNEW, but... DAMMIT, that face.

  
  


You held up three fingers, and you saw him pause, surprised. He 'blinked', which was more like a thinner film of bone coming down over his socket and going back up again. You weren't sure why that was a thing, but, eh.

  
  


"..." You sighed. "There are three types of people in this world. Those who can count, and those who can't."

  
  


... His face lit up like the street lamps you were passing.

  
  


You could SEE the jokes forming in his skull, and you groaned, already regretting endorsing him like that.

  
  


“You’ve heard that one before, Sans.” You reminded, not completely immune to his cute face, stuffing your hands in your pockets and looking away.

  
  


“knock knock.” His face was so bright. Uh oh.

  
  


“Nooooo!”

  
  


He punned at you, _all the way to Grillby's_ , non-stop, _terrible jokes_. Why did he only ever tell terrible ones!? Why not good ones that were smart? His astronomy puns always made you chuckle... this was just awful knock-knocks that sometimes didn’t even make sense. You began just tuning him out and rolling your eyes every now and then, making a sound in the back of your throat that somewhat resembled listening. Even the sound of the bell chiming on the door didn’t make him stop.

  
  


You saw the sympathetic looks the patrons gave you as both you and Sans sat down on the barstools at the front of the bar, and he was _still punning_.

  
  


“knock knock.”

  
  


... Siigghh. “Who’s there?”

  
  


You cast a pained glance to Grillby, the bartender, as he pushed a tall glass of water toward you, knowing what you usually asked for. Or bar _tinder_ , as Sans so _affectionately_ nicknamed him, much to the chagrin of most of the other patrons (except for some plant and a permanently drunk bunny, who loved his puns more than life itself). And for good reason- the guy was literally on fire. Always.

  
  


He was tall, and had the body shape of a regular guy, decked out in a white, long-sleeved, neatly pressed shirt and a black overcoat, a little black bowtie on his neck. Grillby’s head had the illusion of being a real head... There was a neck, and a smooth, face-esq, noseless object, with a pair of rectangular glasses set where his eyes would be. His hair was... well, not hair. It was a tall, dancing flame, like a campfire, that moved and crackled, making the glasses on the bar wall behind him glimmer and flash.

  
  


The bar itself was cosy, and warm, with mahogany coloured walls and a polished wooden floor, the sides lined with tables and a jukebox in the top right hand corner.

  
  


You loved this place- it always smelled like good food and a warm fire. Sans explained that he always used to come here when it was still a restaurant underground- the only time he would ever go into detail about life in the Underground was when you brought up Grillby's.

  
  


It’d been the first place he’d taken you when it suddenly seemed like he liked you out of the blue. He’d teleported the two of you there and told you that, in the future, “try not to get drunk anywhere else but here.” You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean... and it just made you wonder further what the hell _happened_.

  
  


“howard.”

  
  


... Oh yeah, the joke.

  
  


“Howard who?” You took a sip of the water, considering whether or not you’d have your burger with ketchup.

  
  


“howard you like a kiss?”

  
  


PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT-

  
  


You spat the water out, mostly into your hand, not expecting a turn of events like that. You became acutely aware of a small (but loud) part of you that secretly wished you’d say yes and Sans’d lean over after and kiss you in the middle of Grillby’s.

  
  


“o-oh my god, are you alright, kiddo?” He asked, the jokes dropping away. He shuffled closer and rubbed a hand on your back as you coughed a few times to get the inhaled water out of your throat.

  
  


“I-I’m good, I’m good.” You insisted, putting your glass onto the counter and hitting your chest with your fist a few times. Grillby looked momentarily concerned and a few people had stopped to stare but Sans waved them away.

  
  


“... what the hell was that?” His voice held genuine concern with a tiny bit of humour.

  
  


“It was a good joke.” You excused, mind dragging up the first excuse it could find as you turned to look at him. “I tried to laugh in the water and just ended up inhaling it.”

  
  


“... maybe that’s enough puns for today.” He chuckled, softly, hand still on your back rubbing up and down a little.

  
  


... It was nice.

  
  


“Yeah.” You agreed. “I don’t want to be choking on my burger anytime soon.”

  
  


... He removed his hand, as if remembering it was there.

  
  


...

  
  


You picked at a nail.

  
  


Speaking of burgers- here they were, as if gifts from God to diffuse the tension. An amazing thing about Grillby’s- the service was incredibly fast on the quiet nights, when Grillby could just use his excellent fire magic to perfectly cook the burger in a matter of moments. It was divine intervention on days when you were really, really hungry, and a massive juicy burger served within five minutes of ordering was divine.

  
  


And just like that, the tension broke, and the two of you moved smoothly into a casual conversation about the latest news stories (Sans was never keen on politics so you steered clear of that area) and a podcast you’d been listening to, which you listened to on the way to work... and whatnot. You still had no idea what Sans did that enabled him to pay his rent every month but you knew that pushing the Question Dodger himself would yield little result, so you left the subject alone, and finished your burger with relish, enjoying the time with Sans.

  
  


It was so peaceful. Just the two of you.

  
  


...

  
  


You gasped and sat up in your seat as a _new song_ came onto the little jukebox in the corner- at first, you didn’t believe your ears- usually it only played a small variety of jazz songs in an endless loop that you were so used to hearing it just became background noise.

  
  


But today, it was playing... _new songs_.

  
  


More importantly, _I can’t help falling in love with you._

  
  


“Sans! Sans!” You chirped, grabbing his arm and shaking it, getting up from your seat. “Dance with me!”

  
  


He went stiff as a board, blinking twice and looking at you like you’d just grown another head.

  
  


“... what?”

  
  


_“Wise men say...”_ You used a comedic, low voice, trying to match Elvis Presley’s tone. _“Only foooools ruuusshh iiinnn...”_

  
  


“... pft.” Sans rolled his eyelights. “no thanks.”

  
  


_“But I...”_ You were grinning dumbly, still pulling at his arm. He looked like he was going to give in, looking away and the corners of his smile turning upwards.

  
  


“nooo. i don’t even know this song.”

  
  


_“Can’t... help...”_

  
  


“stoooop.” He was practically already off the chair.

  
  


_“Falling in looove wiiitthh y-”_

  
  


Suddenly, his sockets snapped wide open, and he snatched his arm away like you’d _burnt_ it.

  
  


You blinked, taken aback as he rounded on you. Without warning and for no apparent reason, the playfulness had completely vanished, replaced with frustration, harsh eyelights and a nonexistent smile. “i said no! jesus christ!”

  
  


... That kind of behaviour from Sans was so unheard of that most of the people in the room stopped and looked at you like you’d just called him a racial slur. Even Grillby, who’d just been polishing a glass in the corner, turned to look, head tilting a little.

  
  


... You suddenly felt terrible, standing there like a moron, the music still playing in the background.

  
  


P-perhaps... he really didn’t want to dance, and you missed the signals that he was super uncomfortable with you grabbing him and making him do it? I mean... you’d grabbed him like that before and he’d _seemed_ happy and you could’ve been _certain_ he was almost ready to dance with you, that oh-so-familiar playful grin on his face, but...

  
  


“...O-oh.” You put your arms down. “Sorry.”

  
  


...

  
  


He didn’t respond. He was staring at the wooden counter, brows drawn together in a look of frustration.

  
  


“... I-I’ll just...” You’d already paid for your burger. You took your hoodie and turned away, heading to the door with Presley’s song still in your ears, feeling like a pushy and terrible person, unaware of how Sans sat back up when you left, face contorting into regret.

  
  


“kid, wait-”

  
  


Too late. The bell chimed behind you.

  
  


...

  
  


_“I don’t think you could’ve handled that any worse, Sans.”_ Came Grillby’s soft voice, like a crackling campfire, as he cleared away your empty plate. _“For someone who’s upset they're not interested you seem quite adept at pushing them away.”_

  
  


Sans responded by hitting his skull on the counter.

  
  


... He never thought it’d end up like this.

  
  


When he’d first met you he couldn’t have cared less- you were an average human with an average face who he was only using as a means of having to pay less on the rent for a little while as he got his machine together. He had every intention of making your life hell and getting you to move out once his income was heavy again. An average, boring human.

  
  


And, actually, he technically _could_ have cared less, since he cared enough to be spiteful. You couldn’t get too comfortable so he made sure you knew you weren’t welcome there. You seemed to get the message and stopped trying to befriend him after a couple of days, and he was absolutely ready to get you kicked out in a few month’s time.

  
  


Apparently, coming home bruised and stumbling drunk, throwing up in the bathroom and sobbing all over his shirt when he came to check what the noise was happened to be the fastest way to melt his Soul.

  
  


And, well... that was a story for another day.

  
  


Now that he knew you were like him, he opened up a little more. Perhaps, if you weren’t so bad, he could relax and not spend so much energy being spiteful...

  
  


... He hadn’t _at all_ expected to crush. Hard.

  
  


Of course, he did the _most stupid thing possible_ when given the BEST opportunity. He _knew_ you liked him a bit, by the way you reacted to him coming closer and touching you and hugging you, but... he adamantly refused to allow himself to have anything other than platonic feelings for a _human._ Assuming he had little more than a simple, childish crush, or a misguided interest in something new that just went a bit too far, he kept you solidly at a distance.

  
  


Active friendzoning, he called it. Besides- in no time, he’d stop feeling this way, he’d realise how stupid he was being, because no, it _wasn’t_ anything big, he didn’t have important feelings, this wouldn’t go further than a crush.

  
  


...

  
  


It went further.

  
  


Set firmly in his own denial he continued to push you away, every single moment that could even be _considered_ romantic was swiftly dealt with.

  
  


And by the time he finally realised the truth of what he felt, realised his mistake, the night with you on the couch when you sneezed about four times in a row and looked up at him with a head of frizzy hair and a face of adorable confusion, it was too late.

  
  


He’d pushed you so far away that you no longer reciprocated.

  
  


... Single-handedly burnt every bridge...

  
  


And, yes, he was mad about that. Mad that he’d ruined it, mad that he’d lost his chance with you like this... and mad that you’d done what he’d tried so hard to do- move past a crush.

  
  


So of course, you asking to dance and singing about falling in love caught him off guard. But... It didn’t excuse lashing out how he did _(you’re so fucking stupid, Sans)._

  
  


He got up from his seat, mumbling a short “put it on my tab” and leaving a significantly quieter room, out into the night to go after you. It only took a little glance around to see you some ways up the street, hands in your hoodie pockets and eyes cast downwards, a look of regret on your face.

  
  


... Fuck. He’d made you regret _being friendly._ He caught up to you at a light jog, decided that teleporting behind you and getting your attention would definitely spook you at this time of night.

  
  


You turned around at his jogging, blinking... probably surprised to see him moving in any way other than walking and/or complaining about having to walk.

  
  


“h... hey kid.”

  
  


Damnit. He could see the way you buried your guilt so you could look him in the eyesockets without seemingly looking sad... Sweat was already beading on his skull.

  
  


“Hey Sans.” You slowed a little so he could walk with you.

  
  


“Listen, I-”

“i’m sorry i-”

  
  


...

  
  


You both laughed awkwardly at interrupting each other, the atmosphere lifting the tiniest bit... And, I mean, thank God for that, he wouldn’t be able to handle you staying upset. When you were upset, _he_ got upset, and he was really, _really_ shit at handling that kind of situation.

  
  


... Or feelings. At all.

  
  


“You wanna go first...?” You offered, a smile finally back on your features.

  
  


“i-i’m sorry i snapped at you.” He stammered. “that was uncalled for.”

  
  


You held up your hands and shook your head, slowing down just a tiny bit then catching back up again, your voices being the only ones on the now-quiet street lit only by the lamps.

  
  


“N-no, you said you didn’t want to. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

  
  


“but-”

  
  


“It’s fine, Sans. Really.” You gave him that little smile again, but it didn’t go all the way to your eyes. “You don’t have to try to gloss over it.”

  
  


...

  
  


He sighed, suddenly feeling shit again. He _knew_ he should push further, keep trying to convince you that he didn’t mean to snap and he was just stressed, but... he really didn’t want to have to argue tonight.

  
  


Maybe he’d bring it up again in the morning, when both of you had simmered down. Who knows... maybe he’d get the courage to ask you somewhere as an apology. N-not a date, no... nothing that fancy. Hell, he’d rather just stay indoors with you and eat pizza and cite shitty memes that didn’t even seem to make sense but were funny _because_ they didn’t make sense.

  
  


Oh well. Too bad he was the _shittest person ever at handling feelings._

  
  


You seemed to take his lack of response as confirmation of your previous belief and the two of you continued on, in a comfortable, albeit _slightly_ awkward silence, filled only by the gentle sound of shoes on tarmac and distant cars. He could tell by the way your eyes chanced upwards every now and then that you were watching the streetlamps pass overhead to give yourself something to do in the quiet.

  
  


...

  
  


He really liked the way your eyes glittered when you did that.

  
  


...

  
  


And then he started to get this... odd feeling.

  
  


Something was off in his Soul. He felt like... he really needed to remember this moment. Walking home with you in the quiet. Just the two of you...

  
  


... He dismissed it as his overworked and over-emotional mind trying to make him confess to you.

  
  


Home was quiet when the two of you got back in, kitchen light still on from someone forgetting to turn it off but the rest of the place nonetheless dark and still- you chucked your hoodie onto the sofa and sighed, checking the counters in case there was anything left out, then heading over to the bathroom. He stood around awkwardly while you brushed your teeth (he was never able to watch you brush your teeth, there was something so _weird_ about you cleaning your visible skeleton) and was unsure of what to say when you came out, heading to your room now, clearly ready to tucker in for an early night, eyes heavy and posture weary.

  
  


Your hand touched the doorknob-

  
  


“... h-hey.” He said, suddenly.

  
  


You turned, and he realised with a blink that he didn’t even know _what_ he had stopped you _for._ Why the hell had he done that? Now he looked like a moron.

  
  


...

  
  


“... night, kiddo.” He covered.

  
  


... Your face shifted from a tired frown to a smile again, and you chuckled, apparently happy that he’d stopped you to say goodnight.

  
  


_that one reached your eyes._

  
  


Hearing him make an effort to talk to you first was probably a relief to you, now that he thought about it- given all the tension earlier. His shoulders relaxed.

  
  


“Night, Sans.” You replied, then headed into your room, the door clicking shut softly behind you.

  
  


...

  
  


He sighed, wishing he could have an early night like you.

  
  


But nah... he had work on the machine to do.


	2. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new challenger approaches.

_who knew ya could drown in the fire in someone’s eyes?_

  
  


... You woke up to a _very_ loud crash. It startled you so bad that you shot forward out of bed, eyes not immediately adjusting to the darkness in your room.

  
  


Immediately, thinking someone had broken in, you got out of bed (still in your pjs) and _bolted_ across the dark corridor to where the crash had sounded from-

  
  


_Sans’s room._

  
  


There were voices inside- raised ones. Someone was shouting in a heavy accent and Sans was shouting back in a tone you’d never heard before-

  
  


You threw open his bedroom door.

  
  


...

  
  


Two Sans’s looked back at you.

  
  


... No, wait... just two skeletons?

  
  


The room was a mess- and I mean a _mess._ It was like an actual bomb had gone off, and not even sarcastically speaking. The large, pod-like machine Sans left covered with a sheet at the end of his bed was uncovered and smoking in a way that did _not_ seem safe. Clothes, bits of bolts, bits of _wall,_ sections of the end of his bed... all of them were scattered across the floor, a desk blown over and papers scattered around their feet.

  
  


On the right, looking panicked and almost _scared_ (!?), was Sans, eyelights turned to you and almost flickering out in shock. His hoodie was tied around his middle, exposing a stained white shirt instead.

  
  


His smile was completely gone.

  
  


“(y-y/n)!” He said, borderline hysterically, as if he’d only just remembered you lived there too.

  
  


...

  
  


And on the left was...

  
  


... Sans but edgy. He was almost a head taller than your roommate (and you), and much, _much_ broader, too. He was wearing a tight fitting black shirt, also, like Sans, sporting a hoodie tied around his middle (black, and from what you could see, with a fur trim on the hood) and had bones that were so thick and heavily set that they almost looked like human muscles, especially at the shoulder, where you could’ve mistaken them for biceps if he was a silhouette. Each one was nicked with various cuts that had apparently accumulated over time, his stance was confident, _powerful._ His teeth were sharp, shark-like teeth, in a cartoonish zig-zag along his mouth, pulled into a smile. One near his upper jaw was glittering in the dim light- it was golden! He had a gold fucking tooth!

  
  


But what struck you most about him, was... the smouldering, _crimson_ eyelights, the colour of fire and blood, so starkly different to your friend’s soft white. The burning eyelights travelled from your face, to your feet, and back up again.

  
  


... The sharp grin grew even wider, and you suddenly felt like this man was far more of a monster than you’d ever met before.

  
  


“... god _damn,_ blue.” His voice was deep, dark, heavily accented, sockets lidding. Nothing like Sans’s tone...

  
  


... He smelled like... thistle bushes, and bonfire smoke.

  
  


You blinked, as it dawned on you that he’d been surveying you like a piece of meat. You almost _bristled,_ suddenly and VERILY deciding that this guy may be hot, but he was an asshole. “Excuse me!?”

  
  


Blue seemed just as peeved as you, turning to the new guy, brows drawn together- but his voice came out a stammer. “th-they're my _roommate!”_

  
  


...

  
  


The newcomer raised a brow bone sexi- _sassily_ , looking between the two of you.

  
  


“... you two ain’t together?”

  
  


What was this asshole getting at!? You put your hands on your hips, figuring an explanation could wait a moment.

  
  


“No, we aren't.” You made sure to sound cutting to get Asshole’s attention. “It’s like he said. We’re roommates.”

  
  


And get his attention you did- you could’ve sworn his grin got even wider at your tone, turning his body completely toward you. You didn’t let yourself be intimidated. You _wouldn’t._

  
  


“got a boyfriend?” He asked, casualness in his tone. “girlfriend?”

  
  


“N-no!” You looked at Sans with a ‘what the fuck please help me’ look. “Why are you asking me that?!”

  
  


... Asshole didn’t respond properly, his expression instead turning appreciative as he clearly checked out something on you that wasn’t your personality. “maybe bein’ dragged here _wasn’t_ the worst thing...”

  
  


...

  
  


Did this bitch just.

  
  


Furious and objectified by this random devil-version of Sans, you stormed up to him until you were glaring directly up into his red eyelights, almost chest-to-chest. Red-eyes looked down at you with momentary surprise... then a pleased, satisfied grin. You felt _your_ Sans grab your arm, suddenly panicked, but you held fast, not about to let yourself be so blatantly goggled at like you were nothing.

  
  


“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean, _bone man?”_ You snarled. Sans actually succeeded in pulling you back a few steps, a steadying hand on your shoulder and one on your arm, but you still wanted to rip this stranger’s head off.

  
  


You felt like two dwarves next to a giant.

  
  


“...” Asshole took a moment to take an almost calculating look at you, bony ‘lips’ pursed over his fangs. This time it didn’t go directly to your tits- it remained on your face.

  
  


... Then, he smiled again. This time less like a smug motherfucker and more like a genuinely (if slightly tainted) excited grin.

  
  


“... i like ya already, sweetheart.”

  
  


...

  
  


Sweewho?

  
  


“... Sans.” You turned to your buddy, taking his hand off your arm for a moment to catch his attention. He looked at you- shit. You’d never seen him look this frustrated before. What was he even frustrated _about?_ “Who is this?”

  
  


... Sans and Asshole held eye contact for a few, tense moments. It felt like a _challenge,_ an ‘I-dare-you-to-speak-up-first’ moment. Sans’s hands left your body and instead stuffed into his pockets but he still stood very close, his posture more upright than you’d seen in a while.

  
  


“... this is red. my _cousin.”_ The word came out like venom being spat.

  
  


“... Why’s he here?” You asked, aware of the tension between them. Yeah, cousins made sense. They looked so spookily similar that if you just gave Red straight teeth and white eyelights he’d be the spitting image of Sans.

  
  


It also explained the hate.

  
  


Red spoke up first, and you definitely could _not_ miss the ridiculously heavy bedroom eyes he was giving you. You responded by looking at Sans instead, n-not... not embarrassed at all by this huge, flirtatious skeleton’s aura, which just made Red chuckle. “guess ya could say i got _dragged_ -”

  
  


“he’s only here for a little while.” Sans cut across, and you were relieved when Red didn’t speak up over him, instead just scowling. It was comforting to know- Sans still had the power here. “something happened where he lives and he has to stay here until we can fix it.”

  
  


“... Oh.” The two of them must’ve been fighting- that explains the crash. And if he was a relative of Sans’s and clearly similar to him, it made a lot of sense that he’d show up at 2 in the morning. “... Is it a private reason?”

  
  


“nothin’s private for you, ba-”

  
  


“yes.” Ouch! Sans cut through Red _again._ You couldn’t help but smile at that and you were pretty sure Sans noticed, judging by the way his mood lifted just as quickly as Red’s further soured.

  
  


Speaking of Red- he approached you. You turned to him, holding your ground... but you were surprised to find that his previous jackass atmosphere was gone. He just looked... genuinely interested.

  
  


“so...” He held out a massive hand for you to shake, deep voice much softer and less malicious than before. “you got a name? or can i call ya mine for tonight?”

  
  


Even his blatant flirt and wink was less predatorial... in fact, you recognised his tone, under the layers of brooklyn accent, as the same one Sans used when he was punning.

  
  


...

  
  


You didn’t want to admit it, but that made your guard go down. You shook his giant palm, rolling your eyes once before holding contact with him.

  
  


He seemed to like that a lot.

  
  


“(y/n).” You said, withdrawing your hand, acutely aware of how small it was compared to his. You and Sans almost had the same hand size... this guy was a beast.

  
  


... He grinned.

  
  


Suddenly, Sans piped up, touching your shoulder again. You turned to look at him, noticing how small and _soft at the edges_ he seemed compared to Red.

  
  


“he’ll be staying in my room with me. if he bothers you? yell.”

  
  


You smiled at Sans, and turned back to Red, with a look you placed squarely as ‘I dare you, fucker’.

  
  


“I’m _sure_ he won’t.”

  
  


\---

  
  


... Red was...

  
  


...

  
  


Fun...?

  
  


You never thought you’d use that word to describe a guy like him.

  
  


A lazy Sunday morning that typically only involved you and Sans was now shared by his large cousin. You got up late, still a little hazy, and headed into the kitchen for some breakfast (technically lunch at that point), sun streaming in through the windows and lighting up large squares on the floor, only to find the monster himself at the table, apparently engaged in an important conversation with Sans, who was sat across from him. Today Red was actually wearing the hoodie he’d had tied around his waist last night... Black, fur trim hood, zip-up. It made him look even larger, if that was even possible... Seeing someone so tall at the table felt a little out-of-place considering you were so used to smol Sans.

  
  


Red was scowling as the two of them talked in hushed voices... something about a universe?

  
  


... Aw. Was he a space nerd too? Were all Sans’s family space nerds?

  
  


“Morning.” You said, announcing your presence in the doorway, making sure the conversation wasn’t something you weren’t supposed to overhear.

  
  


...You couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit flattered when Red looked up, face visibly brightening at your arrival, shifting into a pleased grin.

  
  


“ey, sweetheart.” He said, the pet name oddly endearing.

  
  


“... morning kiddo.” Sans suddenly sounded so much higher in comparison to Red’s brooklyn drawl. He looked tired...

  
  


“You guys already eaten?” You headed over to the fridge and opened it to check, the blast of chill air welcome on such a warm morning.

  
  


“yeah. i would’ve left you some but red ate it all.” Sans said, a note of scorn in his voice that you easily picked up on.

  
  


“was nice.” Red chuckled, apparently unfazed by the clear dislike. “but next time i’ll save ya a plate, darlin.”

  
  


... You paused, head still in the fridge.

  
  


...

  
  


... Red had magic powers.

  
  


... He, a large male, managed to say ‘darling’ to someone _much_ smaller than himself, in a way that didn’t make you want to vomit, tear your hair out, or feel like you were 2ft tall. Usually you never would’ve let something like that pass... but for some reason, coming out of Red’s sharp mouth, it just sounded casual.

  
  


Friendly.

  
  


You weren’t sure why he was friendly when last night you squared up to him and snarled in his face but whatever worked was fine.

  
  


_Hey..._ You thought, removing your face from the fridge, getting out a pan and prepping to turn the hob on, your back to the table. _Maybe he’s not actually that ba-_

  
  


“... heey... need any... _ass_ isstance?” He purred, from his seat behind you. You heard the crude grin in his voice and it took you a split second to catch onto the emphasized ‘ass’, and when you did, you paused.

  
  


...

  
  


Oh no.

  
  


Nooooooo.

  
  


_Why pick-up puns?!_

  
  


A chair creaked loudly and clattered to the floor- you spun around to find Sans and Red both standing, chest-to-chest by the table, Sans’s chair tipped over backwards from how fast he got up. Sans was glaring defiantly up into Red’s eyelights with a look of utter hatred, fists clenched- Red was staring back down, cooly, unfazed, grin suddenly sharper and _much_ less friendly. ... Shit, you’d never seen Sans’s teeth bared like that!

  
  


“G-guys!” You shrieked. The whole room slowly started to reek of Sans’s rainy, pine-tree smell, and Red’s conflicting thorny smokey scent.

  
  


“did i fucking stutter last night when i made the house rules clear, _red_?” Sans growled. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled and you reflexively took a step back until you were right up against the counter.

  
  


“i ain’t hearin’ objections, _blue_.” Red purred, raising his brow bones.

  
  


Red called Sans Blue?

  
  


“they don’t need to be said. you need to watch your mouth.”

  
  


“no need ta get s _‘ass’_ y with me.” Red said, emphasizing the ‘ass’ again.

  
  


... You snorted before you could cover your mouth.

  
  


...

  
  


Red and Sans both looked at you with surprised dot eyelights, the magic in the atmosphere quieting, and the smell getting less potent.

  
  


...

  
  


You covered your face in mortification.

  
  


“... aww...” FUCK you could HEAR the evil grin in Red’s voice. “don’t tell me... yer... embarr _‘ass’_ ed?”

  
  


“Shut uuuup.” It was muffled behind your hands. You felt like you were betraying Sans by finding this even remotely funny.

  
  


“heya, that ain’t nice.” His teasing tone made you just want to curl up and die. “i _assed_ you a question. don’t be a h _ass_ le.”

  
  


“Stooop!” Your shoulders were shaking. You couldn’t let yourself snort or laugh or chuckle.

  
  


“i think yer-”

  
  


“shut up _ass_ hole.”

  
  


Sans’s cutting, simple remark made your walls break, and you allowed yourself a laugh, hands coming away from your face.

  
  


... You didn’t notice the way both Red _and_ Sans relaxed when you did.

  
  


“I hate you both.” You giggled, shaking your head.

  
  


“... ya like puns?” Red asked.

  
  


“... yeah. they _loooove_ them.” Sans said, his eyelights fixing on you... you could practically taste the fact that he was faux-salty from you snorting at Red’s quip. You gave him a ‘What did you expect?’ look that he rolled his eyelights to.

  
  


... You got an idea.

  
  


“... That’s a pretty big...” You paused for effect, locking eyes with your buddy. “... ‘ _Ass’_ umption.”

  
  


...

  
  


Red laughed, _loudly,_ and Sans put a hand to his chest in mock betrayal. You grinned at him in response, folding your arms over your chest.

  
  


“sh-shit, sweetheart.” Red sat back down at his chair, laughing a few more times, then sighing deeply. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring for a few seconds at the way his broad chest rose and fell... How could someone be so big? “yer a riot.”

  
  


... You made your breakfast, in a good mood now that the atmosphere had lifted between Red and Sans. Red wasn’t nearly as bad as you’d expected him to be from your interaction last night. You’d definitely assumed he’d be the lecherous, ass-grabbing, one-night-stand kind of guy, but... turns out he was actually pretty okay.

  
  


Like Sans, but edgy and with an accent.

  
  


Once you’d eaten, you washed up your plate and headed into the hallway, intending to go back to your room and change out of your leggings, socked feet quiet on the floor- you’d noticed a stain on them and you just wanted something a little less ratty. It was always a little gloomy in the corridor... you never really turned on the light there unless it was night time and you needed that extra light.

  
  


You kept heading down, brushing some excess hair out of your face...

  
  


... Except your path was blocked.

  
  


You were almost at your room when footsteps behind you made you spin around to look, blinking.

  
  


... Red was blocking the path, large form faintly silhouetted.

  
  


“... ey.” His voice was a lot quieter than it’d been today, red eyelights casting down on you, lighting up his face a little, grin... uh...

  
  


... He was getting closer.

  
  


You backed up almost reflexively despite not really feeling threatened (just confused), your back bumping lightly against the wall next to your bedroom.

  
  


“U-uh.”

  
  


... He put his arm against wall next to your head as he leaned in, trapping you, sh-shit he was large. You were so unused to the skeletons being big like this that you just couldn’t move, pinned.

  
  


“C-can you move away?” You said, voice so tight and high you were pretty sure that’s what a mouse would sound like if turned human.

  
  


“... dunno...” He purred at you, voice silky, like black satin. You could feel his breath on your face. “you busy tonight...?”

  
  


... The hand that wasn’t on the wall traced your waist, and you immediately raised the red flag, grabbing said hand and pushing it off, fixing Red with as an unimpressed look as you could manage in your squeaky state.

  
  


Red’s face fell to a rejected pout. “nawwww. c’mon, that’s just-”

  
  


The familiar buzz of Sans appearing was the only warning before Red was _violently_ shoved off you, the two of them immediately squaring up again and starting to shout. The testosterone levels of these two was _insane,_ and you staggered back a little, _actually intimidated_ by these furious skeletons.

  
  


“fuckin’ _back off!_ jesus christ!”

  
  


“did you even listen to a _word_ i said, red!?”

  
  


... What’s _wrong_ with these two!?

  
  


You were sick and tired of watching them fight. Cousins were cousins and it wasn’t your place to interject, so you just turned and went into you room finally, shutting the door and leaning your back on it, sighing. You could still hear them yelling through the thin walls- you really hoped this wasn’t going to be a regular thing because the _last_ thing you needed right now was for a noise complaint to get you and Sans kicked out.

  
  


... You flushed. Red had pushed you against the wall like some scene in an anime- your face heated just thinking about his expression and voice. He looked so similar to Sans that it was no _wonder_ you’d feel kinda attracted to him physically, especially when he was so _forward,_ clearly wanting you in a way Sans never had...

  
  


You groaned and put your head in your hands. These damn attractive skeletons and their attractiveness.

  
  


You flopped on your bed, getting out your phone and scrolling, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts with dumb bird videos and dogs reacting to magic tricks, until the shouting died down and an angry pair of footsteps stomped away.

  
  


...

  
  


\- Knock knock -

  
  


“... kiddo?” It was muffled, and a little upset.

  
  


Oh. Sans.

  
  


You answered the door, opening it a bit- just enough so that your head could poke out.

  
  


“... You good now?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded. ... It was almost difficult to look him in the eye after all those thoughts you’d been having and your interaction with Red.

  
  


“just... wanted to check you’re alright.” He gave a weak smile that you felt wasn’t entirely real, hands nervously placed in his pockets, but you responded nonetheless.

  
  


“Yeah, I’m good.” You leant your head on the door frame. “I can handle a bit of shouting.”

  
  


“... that’s good.”

  
  


...

  
  


He looked like he wanted to do something. His brows were drawn together and his gaze held with your eyes, and he took a breath to say something, but...

  
  


...

  
  


He exhaled the breath.

  
  


... Nothing.

  
  


Instead, he smiled again and left, quietly.

  
  


...

  
  


What a weird interaction.

  
  


You went back into your room and was literally only two steps away when someone knocked on your door _again._ Assuming it was Sans having forgotten something or just remembered the thing he looked like he really wanted to say, you headed straight back over, sighing, opening again.

  
  


... You were looking at a chest.

  
  


You tilted your head up.

  
  


... Red?

  
  


“... Oh.” You blinked, surprised to see him. “Uh... Hi.”

  
  


“... hey, uh... look. i’m sorry i pinned ya.” He rubbed the back of his skull, red eyelights glancing away... “blue said that’s not how you do shit around here.”

  
  


... He was genuinely apologising? You blinked again, harder, far more taken aback than would ever be polite to admit. He had _not_ struck you as the type to make such an apology for an advancement.

  
  


“where i'm from, there's nothing wrong with showin’ ya mean business.” He explained, eyelights flicking back to you. “s’ a pretty rough place, girls like a guy who’s forward. but i can see here that it's not okay.”

  
  


... Oh wow. That was actually a really great apology. You felt your shoulders relaxing.

  
  


“... so...” He continued, holding eye contact. “... lemme make it up to ya, yeah? there’s a grillby’s nearby, ain’t there? let's go tonight. together.”

  
  


... Grillby’s sounded pretty good right about now... even if it _was_ the second day in a row. And it was really close nearby, full of people you knew... If anything went wrong you could stick near Grillby or mad-dash your way home.

  
  


Besides, Red actually seemed like good company. Maybe an evening out to get to know him wasn’t too bad of an idea.

  
  


“... So it’s a date?” You joked, out of habit.

  
  


“yeah.”

  
  


...

  
  


Wait, what?

  
  


Really?

  
  


“... don’t look so surprised, dollface.” He winked. “i got my motives.”

  
  


... That caught you totally off guard. “I-I...” You stammered. “It... uh... I’m still not interested in sex.”

  
  


“that’s fine. we’ll leave at 7... ready or not.” That last part was a purr, and he winked again, turning and heading down the corridor. You weren’t sure if you definitely saw it or not but it appeared that there was a tiny spring in his step.

  
  


...

  
  


What a weird, kinda sexy, flirty moron.

  
  


\---

  
  


“what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing!?”

  
  


Sans’s voice was as quiet a hiss as he could manage as he rounded on Red, who sat himself on the couch with a smug grin, not replying for now. Sans stood in front of him, furious- magic already spiking in his bones, fists balled.

  
  


Fuck, he just wanted to rip this fucker’s spine out of his back and stomp his dust into the earth.

  
  


Red looked up at him, folding one leg over the other casually and relaxing into the couch like he owned it or something, his arms along the back, victorious expression quickly turning icy. His relaxed posture wasn’t because he was tired, no... it was an insult. Telling Sans that he was so unthreatened that he’d leave himself in a totally open position, right in front of him.

  
  


“askin’ your _roommate_ out on a date.”

  
  


Sans bit his insult back, chest tightening in what he definitely recognised as jealousy.

  
  


_how did he do it so easily? how did he ask so easily!?_

  
  


“are you forgetting that you don’t belong in this universe!?” Sans snapped. “we’re sending you home as soon as the machine is fixed. building relationships with people in _my_ universe is only going to make it harder to move you back.”

  
  


Red shrugged, smile coming back as he probably thought about your ass. “might as well enjoy myself while i’m ‘ere. besides...” His eyelights zeroed in on Sans in a way he _knew_ was a challenge. The left light vanished and the right grew into a ring of burning red, and Sans found his own sockets mirroring the move, the magic so thick in the air he could practically _taste_ it.

  
  


“... yer actin’ like they're _yours.”_

  
  


...

  
  


“... holy shit.” Red’s eyelights blinked back into their normal pricks, his smile splitting into a surprised but mocking laugh. “you’re after them!? two different universe versions of the same guy tryna fuck one person?”

  
  


“...” Sans grimaced, almost glancing away, but forcing himself to hold eye contact with this intruder. He had to maintain his position at the top of the chain... he couldn’t show weakness, he’d be ousted without a second glance. “i’m not just after sex, you shallow prick.”

  
  


“daww.” Red got up from the couch, doing a little pout, leaning over Sans again. He liked doing that, apparently- showing his physical advantage. Like a peacock strutting its feathers or a deer throwing its antlers about... it was his way of showing how strong and large he was. How he _should_ be the superior in this situation.

  
  


Blatant intimidation.

  
  


...

  
  


Sans would’ve found it pathetic if he didn’t also find himself wishing he were taller right now. He _knew_ his magic was stronger, or Red would’ve taken over by now, but he _still_ wanted to go head-to-head with this asshole, instead of head-to- _chin._

  
  


_... did you like bigger guys? is that why you accepted so fast?_

  
  


“do you wanna snwuggle wiv them and watch the sunset and confess yer unydin’ wuv?” Red teased.

  
  


...

  
  


Sans didn’t reply.

  
  


...

  
  


... Red’s mocking pout dropped. “... holy shit, you do.”

  
  


“ **let’s make** _ **one thing**_ **clear as possible.”** Sans snarled, the aching of his empty sockets the only reason he realised he’d extinguished his eyelights completely to leave the gaping, black voids. Red’s stupid fucking smug smile finally completely dropped into shock for a split second.

  
  


... That felt good.

  
  


“... they're from _this_ universe.” He continued, low, white eyelights returning as he controlled his anger. “ _you_ are not. you don’t belong here, they doesn’t belong to you. they _never will.”_

  
  


“they belong to _you,_ then?”

  
  


The simple question made Sans seethe to himself because he _knew_ you didn’t like him that way and there was _nothing he could do about it._

  
  


“... i say let ‘em make their _own_ choice.” He tilted his head to one side, as if waiting for Sans to impose on your right to make your own decisions in the end. “red or blue... huh. may the best monster win.”

  
  


“oh,” Sans growled, narrowing his sockets, cementing the challenge. “i intend to.”


	3. Nice Legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go on your date with Red.

_he can’t keep me away from them._

  
  


“... ready to go?” Red asked, hand on the doorknob. You cast one last look back into the apartment- you’d told Sans you were heading out with Red and no mask in the entire world could hide his obvious dislike of you going somewhere with his cousin.

  
  


... But hey. Sans said he’d only be here for a little while, right? So once Red left, you and your roomie could have some proper bonding time so he wouldn’t feel left out. For now, you were gonna have a nice night out with a new person.

  
  


“Yep.” You’d grabbed your slightly nicer cardigan sweater (scandalous) for this occasion... partially because you kinda wanted to look nice next to Red, and partially because it was a warm night tonight and you didn’t need your usual hoodie.

  
  


“Thanks.” You smiled, heading out the door that Red held open for you, slipping the cardigan on and buttoning it up.

  
  


“ooh,” He chuckled, from behind you, as you headed down the stairs, the door clicking shut. “ya got dressed up for me n’ everything?”

  
  


“Oh yeah, definitely.” You rolled your eyes at him over your shoulder. “I got _sooo_ dolled up.”

  
  


“i’m flattered. really.”

  
  


The two of you headed out the main door and you looked up at the almost-dark sky, the sun already gone and just leaving a slightly lighter sky that was fast fading, dotted by a few clouds rimmed with orange.

  
  


What a nice evening...

  
  


“you’ll hafta lead, sweetheart.” Red said, breaking you out of your admiration for the post-sunset sky. “dunno my way around here.”

  
  


... You turned to him, chuckling. “Yeah. Sure. It’s literally less than a few minutes away so I’ll only have to show you once.”

  
  


Despite you being the one ‘leading’ Red the two of you walked side-by-side, the occasional car riding by. It was still so foreign, standing next to someone so much taller than yourself.... You’d taken this route more times than you could remember with Sans, in the day and night, any weather, like the time you left a shut Grillby’s and it started to pour with rain so you both ran back as fast as your legs could carry you. You’d stood under a bus stop with him, waiting for it to calm down... and he’d taken off his favourite hoodie and wrapped it around your shoulders despite you being soaking wet, mumbling something about humans getting cold easily, then hugging you to him with one arm, silent.

  
  


... You’d been so sure, in that moment, that he liked you. So certain there was something there...

  
  


“... hey.”

  
  


... O-oh!

  
  


Right, you were here with Red right now. You blinked and shook your head, taking a little breath to move yourself back into the present, looking up at your current company.

  
  


“Sorry.” You excused, embarrassed. “Lost in thought.”

  
  


... Was it the light, or did he look concerned? “... y’like puns, right?” His voice was soft, and inviting, as was his grin.

  
  


“... Depends on the pun.” You teased. ... He wasn’t going to tell shit ones, was he?

  
  


“unlike subway,” he winked, gold tooth glittering in the light of a passing car. “ _my_ footlong doesn’t cost 5 dollars.”

  
  


...

  
  


_OH NO._

  
  


_HE’S_ _**FUNNY.** _

  
  


Y-you covered your mouth but ended up snorting unattractively, caught completely off guard, looking away when your face went crimson. You _absolutely_ had _not_ been expecting that- I mean, it seemed like the kind of thing a guy like him would say but, not to _you,_ of all people!

  
  


“I-is it really something I want to put in my mouth...?” You managed to squeeze out, shoving your hands into your pockets and staring at the road next to you with a stupid little grin forcing itself onto your face.

  
  


You missed his starry expression at your response.

  
  


“mmm...” He purred, grinning like a bastard, leaning in close, ultimately forcing you to look at him. “dunno. it’s some _quality sausage.”_

  
  


_“Oh my God_ stoooooopppp.” You whisper-yelled, voice squeaky, having to cover your face. Why were you still laughing!?

  
  


“you must sell hot dogs ‘cus ya know how to make a _weiner stand.”_ He nudged you with his elbow. “or... are you a burger? cus i’d slap those buns.”

  
  


“... J-just to make it clear, I’m not interested in fucking you, but I _am_ interested in making food-related pickup puns.” You said, pointing at him, shoulders shaking a little with restrained laughter. You needed to make sure he didn’t think you were leading him on.

  
  


He grinned again, eyelights seemingly sparkling, not minding that you didn’t want sex. “understood. ... c’mon. hit me with your best.”

  
  


... You took a breath.

  
  


“... Are you McDonalds? Cus you’re going straight to my thighs.”

  
  


...

  
  


“... where’ve you been all my life?”

  
  


\---

  
  


You weren’t sure why Red got so many weird looks from people at Grillby’s but you put it down to them not having met Sans’s relatives yet, or something. Either that, or they _had_ heard of him, and had maybe heard Sans’s obvious dislike of him before meeting the actual person.

  
  


A dislike you... were understanding less and less as time went by. In the end, you just had to put it down to familial rivalry, or some grudge lasting from a long time ago.

  
  


Well... it didn’t really matter. You didn’t mind.

  
  


Because Red was _great_ company.

  
  


The guy was as sharp as his huge teeth and seemed to have cracked exactly how to make you laugh and flush at the same time, with his ridiculous ass puns and pick-up lines that made you figure he was probably _very_ popular with the ladies back at home. Any walls you had and any distrust of a new person you might’ve harboured was already destroyed.

  
  


“I can’t drink tonight.” You said, at the barstools, as Red ordered two shots of some kind of bright, almost _glowing_ orange whiskey called... ‘fire whiskey’ (isn’t that a drink from Harry Potter?) from Grillby, who seemed to have a double take at Red. He really _did_ look similar to Sans... “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

  
  


“awwww.” Red complained, picking up one of the small glasses and frowning at you. “are ya suuure?”

  
  


“Yes I’m suuure.” You rolled your eyes.

  
  


“... suuuuuure...?”

  
  


...

  
  


“Okay, but literally only _one_ sip from that.” You relented, pointing at his fire whiskey. You kinda wanted to see what it was, anyway. It looked almost neon orange in the glass, shimmery and bright. How come you’d never spotted it before?

  
  


... Well, you’d never seen Sans drink anything other than a light beer. And Grillby had a wide selection of alcohol... perhaps neither of you had ever been adventurous enough to seek out ‘fire whiskey’. “But nothing else. I can already tell you’re a bad influence.”

  
  


“you break my heart.” He cooed, pushing the untouched glass across the table to you.

  
  


... You stared at it, for a few moments. It looked so pretty... like liquid fire in a container. And the light coming off Grillby, standing a few feet away, made it glimmer even brighter.

  
  


... But yeah, you weren’t going to drink the whole thing, even if it _was_ just a little shot glass. You had no idea what this drink was capable of and you didn’t want to get a huge hangover when you had work tomorrow.

  
  


You lifted it up to your lips and took a small sip.

  
  


...

  
  


... _Oh holy fuck that’s strong._

  
  


You put it down immediately and cringed, bringing a hand up to your mouth and coughing, eyes smarting a tiny bit as your throat screamed in protest of the whiskey. Jesus Christ! You could hear Red chuckling under his breath beside you, taking the shot glass away and instead pushing your own glass of water toward you, which you downed, gratefully, as he patted your back.

  
  


“F-fuck!” You exclaimed, getting your breath back. “That’s _evil!”_ He wasn’t actually going to _drink_ that, was he? That was lava. Literal lava.

  
  


“nice, huh?” Red lifted a glass up in a mini mock toast, grinning. He then knocked back his drink and- holy shit, he didn’t even _flinch._ You found yourself gaping at him- how high was his tolerance!? Was he a _God_ or something?!

  
  


H-he even looked _disappointed,_ staring into the glass he’d downed, but not shooting the other yet, turning the first one (now empty) upside-down on the counter and glancing over at you with his sharp smile, wiggling his brow bones suggestively, clearly enjoying your visible shock and impressment.

  
  


“where i’m from,” he chuckled, cracking his knuckles casually, “they make it a _lot_ stronger.”

  
  


_“No shit.”_ You whispered, in awe.

  
  


“... yer gonna make my ego even _bigger_ if you keep lookin’ at me like that, sweetheart.” He purred, eyelights sharp, obviously still enjoying himself, and your mouth snapped shut, cheeks flushing. Goddamn... this _guy_...

  
  


“... I-I take it you’re a bit of an alcoholic?” You said, raising your eyebrows, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

  
  


“pft. yep.” He leant back on his barstool a little. “i don’t have all them squishy organs you humans damage when ya drink.”

  
  


“... Do you still get hangovers?” You were genuinely curious now. So... there was no long-term repercussions for skeletons drinking? No liver to poison, no nerves to damage, no high blood pressure, no mouth cancer... You just became a heavier and heavier weight?

  
  


“oh, hell yeah i do.” You didn’t miss how he moved a little closer to you. “... what about you? ... you a lightweight?”

  
  


“Definitely.” You tried not to laugh again, a bit embarrassed. You definitely weren’t the hardiest of drinkers... and, especially after the night you got drunk and blacked out, you really tried your best to steer clear of alcohol anyway. It was good that Sans’s attitude toward you changed and everything, but you were still worried about what you might’ve shared with him.

  
  


“... hey.” Red pointed at his wrist, smiling. “my magic watch says you ain’t wearin’ underwear.”

  
  


“... I’m wearing underwear.” You said, playing along with a little smile of your own, wondering how this line was gonna go.

  
  


“... oops. it must be 15 minutes fast~...”

  
  


You laughed aloud, actually covering your mouth with your hand, caught off-guard. No one had ever used pickup lines on you before so, unlike puns or jokes, you never knew any of the ones you were told. It probably gave Red _far_ too much legroom to impress you with lines that weren’t really all that uncommon, but it was still fun.

  
  


“nice legs.” He nudged you, pleased with himself. “what time d’ they open?”

  
  


You turned to him, raising an eyebrow, holding back your smile very badly. You were terrible with pickup lines but you had a few memorised that you read online. “Are you a hard worker? Cus I’ve got an opening you can fill.”

  
  


Ooooh, he definitely liked that one. “those cheeks look heavy. lemme hold ‘em for you.”

  
  


“Nice shirt. Looks like boyfriend material.”

  
  


“folks say thighs are _great_ hand warmers, but i think they’re even _better_ ear warmers.”

  
  


... You paused for a second, narrowing your eyes. “... Why would thighs be ear-”

  
  


... oh

  
  


OH

  
  


OOOOOOHHHH

  
  


He just looked so pleased with himself when you burst into laughter, putting your head on the table, mad at yourself for not getting that one sooner.

  
  


“G... genuine question.” You sat back up, wiping a tear away, chest light and buzzy. “How often do those pickup lines actually work for you?”

  
  


He chuckled, deep, smooth and sex- dARK, resting an arm on the counter.

  
  


“more often than y’d think, sweetheart.” He purred.

  
  


“Dunno, they’re not working on me.” You teased, having far more fun than you should be having right now. “You losing your touch?”

  
  


“drink until i’m attractive. then they’ll _all_ work.”

  
  


You giggled- and got an idea, shooting him with a grin that matched his own.

  
  


“In that case,” you hummed, “they should’ve already been working before we arrived.”

  
  


...

  
  


Did his face just go red? He chuckled, and looked away, a hand on his cheekbone. You knew that Sans’s face went blue when he blushed, but you never considered that Red’s would go... well... _red._

  
  


“... i know you ain’t interested in sex right now, sweetheart,” Red said, suddenly, pulling you out of your conspiratal thoughts. He looked... almost... serious? The signature smile was still there and his eyelights were bright and sharp, but there was something behind the smile that you couldn’t quite place. “but i’ll be stayin’ ‘ere fer a while. you’ve got a chance to change your mind.”

  
  


He finished it off with a wink, and finally drank the second shot that’d been left, almost forgotten, on the table, turning the second glass upside-down too.

  
  


\---

  
  


It wasn’t even that late by the time the two of you got home, Red doing a dramatic retelling of the first time he had fire whiskey during a drink-off and left the bar a ‘changed man’. There was still even some light in the sky- although, given that it was summer now, that wasn’t really a big achievement.

  
  


“an’ that’s when i looked him in the eyes an’ said...” Red continued, as you opened the door, looking over your shoulder at him. He pointed with one finger to an imaginary person next to him, and with a slurred, drunk-imitating voice, blurted out; _“i could do this aaaaaall day, pal.”_

  
  


That gave you a serious case of the giggles (and ungainly snorts that you tried to hide), and Red revelled in the attention and positive response, practically _glowing_ as he shut the door behind him and unzipped his hoodie.

  
  


“... That was fun, Red.” You said, smiling at him, taking your cardigan off and tucking it over one arm to keep there until you got back to your room. “We should do it again sometime.”

  
  


... There was the crimson dusting on his cheekbones again as his eyelights twinkled in the light, giving you the once over. But this time, it felt less like he was checking out a nice piece of meat he’d spotted on a shelf, and more like... he was searching for something.

  
  


And when he met your eyes, he apparently found it, broad shoulders relaxing a tiny bit.

  
  


“i’d have no problem with tha-”

  
  


_“red!”_

  
  


Sans’s sharp, hurried tone snapped the mood, and made Red’s happy face sour and the tension come back, muttering a venomous “blue balls’s gotta fuckin’ rain on the parade” under his breath as his eyelights darted over to where Sans was running to the two of you from.

  
  


Fuck, your roomie looked a _mess,_ oil smudged up his arms and some on his face where he’d probably wiped sweat and rubbed it on, some kind of... weird, short metal utensil in his hand that Red apparently immediately recognised.

  
  


“... something’s off with the machine.” Sans said.

  
  


... Red turned to you and gave you a quick wink, but you saw the worry in his face regardless. ... What the hell would happen if the ‘machine’ went wrong? Now he was worrying _you!_

  
  


“... be right back, sweetheart.” He said, taking off his hoodie properly and putting it on the coat rack, before heading over to Sans, both their faces settling into grim dislike and resignation.

  
  


... You stood there, confused as all hell, their low rumbling’s about whatever they were talking about getting quieter until the door to Sans’s room shut, loudly.

  
  


...

  
  


Uh.

  
  


... I guess, you could just...

  
  


...

  
  


... Sit down and watch some TV, or something?


	4. Skull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER cousin?

_they're so... fearless._

  
  


You didn’t even realise you’d fallen asleep on the couch with the TV still on low until you were jolted awake by another loud nighttime slam, and a rushing commotion near the front door. You blearily opened your eyes, the poor organs instantly assaulted by the bright television across the room from you, playing some random show that you didn’t recognise at all. Your hair felt plastered to your face- dammit, you’d napped too hard- and what the hell was it with this week and you waking up to suspiciously loud slams!?

  
  


You sat straight up, tugged down your shirt so that it wasn’t showing the entire left side of your chest anymore, and staggered toward the door, sleepy, confused, and unsure.

  
  


...

  
  


H...

  
  


Holy shit.

  
  


Your eyes widened, sleepiness leaving you in a matter of seconds, back straightening and lips parting a little to let in a shocked breath of air.

  
  


... Another skeleton.

  
  


...

  
  


But this time, he was very, _very_ different.

  
  


For starters, if you thought Red was big, this guy was _huge._ The top of Red’s head would perhaps be at this person’s nasal cavity, at _most,_ easily making him one of the tallest people you’d ever met. And he wasn’t lacking in width- he was tall _and_ broad. Someone that tall and large... he looked like if he came down, the Earth would shake, and he wouldn’t go back up. Like... a redwood tree. He wore what looked like a mirror of Sans’s usual outfit- the blue hoodie, white shirt and black shorts. Except... the items of clothing were ripped at the corners, dirty, covered in marks.

  
  


Something about him felt different. ... _Tainted._

  
  


... You looked up to his face.

  
  


...

  
  


On one side of his skull was a giant, _vicious_ hole, marred with sharp edges and fractured bone, a crack so large you could see _into_ the head itself, which immediately made you feel sick, flinching back. You had to look away- you couldn’t stare at that for long. It was just... so _unnatural._ He also had far more teeth than Sans... they looked longer and sharper in his larger mouth.

  
  


The eyelight on the opposite side of the crack was... nonexistent. In fact, the whole socket on that side was lax, empty, like a limp, broken limb. But... on the same side of the crack was a swollen red orb with a tiny black dot in the middle, making the whole eyelight thing look like one massive red iris with a dangerously small pupil in a sclera of black. It could hardly be considered an eyelight anymore, it was just... an _eye._

  
  


An eye that was glaring right down into your ever-tinier roommate, who stood firm, head not even at this newcomer's _shoulders._

  
  


“no.” The cracked skeleton said. Immediately, his voice reverberated in your gut, even deeper than Red’s smooth tone, but without any accent and almost... _soft...?_ But it was impossible to match that soft, deep voice with the vicious crack and insane, engorged eyelight and that smell like snowy streams and iron, akin to the metallic tang of blood.

  
  


“this isn’t your choice to make.” Sans kept his stern tone but you could see that even Red, by his side, looked a little nervous with this giant of a man. “you need to stay here until we can get it fixed and send you ba-”

  
  


“i’m not staying with you and your _copy.”_ He growled, those insane teeth baring into a snarl you could’ve sworn you’d seen somewhere on a wild animal, his giant eyelight shrinking a tiny bit as his burning glare at Sans only intensified.

  
  


He looked crazy.

  
  


“hey!” Red snapped, apparently pissed at being called a ‘copy’. You were momentarily confused, and your brows drew together... was this some kind of in-joke about them looking similar...?

  
  


“if you don’t stay,” Sans said, with a warning tone. “we can’t send you ba-”

  
  


The new guy _snarled,_ his hand snapping out and grabbing Sans by the collar of his hoodie, yanking him up to eye level in a way that looked painful and sudden, fabric clenched in his fist- Sans snarled back in shock, grabbing the hand holding him and kicking his legs a little- Red staggered back.

  
  


Your mouth fell open.

  
  


... Did he just _pick your roomie up off the ground_ like that!? You bristled, and suddenly, the new guy’s size didn’t seem to matter all that much.

  
  


How _dare_ he?!

  
  


This was _your_ house, _your_ friend, and _no one_ was going to disrespect him like that. Not in here!

  
  


“HEY!” You shouted, stepping forward.

  
  


...

  
  


You _veeeryyy_ faintly heard someone hiss _‘shit’._

  
  


Probably Sans.

  
  


New guy’s giant, blood red eyelight got smaller in surprise and he turned to you as you stormed across the room toward him. You didn’t even notice how he dropped Sans, how he blinked in surprise, how he stepped back a little as you rushed at him, furious, how he looked down at you like you were a rabid raccoon jumping at him from behind a bush.

  
  


“What are you _doing!?”_ You seethed, advancing, until you were almost chest-to-chest with him. He was so goddamn _tall._ “Who the _fuck_ do you think you are!? Get off my roommate! Go pick a fight somewhere else!”

  
  


Red’s hand gripped your shoulder to pull you away, but you shrugged it off and kept glaring at the tall guy, incensed and thoroughly pissed.

  
  


... Those giant teeth parted a little, his single functioning eyesocket narrowing over his eyelight.

  
  


“... excuse me?” His voice was low, warningly so.

  
  


“You heard me.” If you’d learnt anything from spending so much time with skeletons, it was that you never back down. You narrowed your eyes right back. “This is half my home. If you’re going to fight, take it outside.”

  
  


...

  
  


He was staring way too hard.

  
  


... Your bravery stammered, and you started to feel a lot less clever for challenging the giant. Unlike Red, he didn’t have that... playful, flirty aura that had let you stay mad. New guy’s eyelight was just so... _insane._ Lighter than Red’s crimson but so much larger and brighter and _zeroed in on you._

  
  


...

  
  


Even Sans behind you seemed to be frozen, his breathing short and controlled.

  
  


... You folded your arms.

  
  


...

  
  


“... where’m i sleeping?” He said, turning away from you and walking into the house.

  
  


...

  
  


Wait, what?

You blinked, confused, and turned around, arms coming away from your chest. Red seemed just as confused next to you and the two of you shared a glance as Sans rushed to the new guy.

  
  


“the couch.” Sans said.

  
  


...

  
  


You glanced from the tiny sofa, built for small people like you and Sans, to the giant skeleton who could barely fit in the apartment itself.

  
  


“... That’s way too small?” Why you were concerned, you’d never know, but you kept picturing his head poking over the edge of the arm. Or his legs dangling at a funny angle. That would just be uncomfortable, all night long.

  
  


“he’ll be fine.” Sans excused, his back to you, even as the big guy turned to glance your way. You really had to force yourself to not look at that crack in his skull... “there’s no space anyway.”

  
  


“... Well then.” You looked at Red, hoping for him to see some sense. “He can take my room and I’ll sleep on the c-”

  
  


“he’ll sleep in our room.”

“he’ll sleep in our room.”

  
  


... You blinked, taking a little step back, a... a bit creeped out by both Red and Sans saying that _exact same thing_ at the _exact same time_ with such intensity in their faces. They just looked _so similar._

  
  


“... Uh...” Well... at least they were sharing and not forcing him onto the sofa...? “Okay then.”

  
  


Speaking of the sofa... it was _really_ messy, and your ‘guests over’ instincts were kicking in, despite the fact that neither Sans nor Red seemed keen on treating the violent newcomer like a guest. You falling asleep on the couch had left the pillows extremely messed up and flat in some places, overall, not very pretty.

  
  


“... hey, uh, kiddo.” Sans came over to you, and Red seemed to... ‘escort’ the new guy into the kitchen with a firm hand on his huge back. As you made eye contact with Sans it suddenly seemed so _weird_ to not be craning your neck upwards.

  
  


... Thank God at least _someone_ here was your size. It was comforting.

  
  


“... Is... that another cousin?” You asked, subconsciously shuffling a little closer to him, looking toward the kitchen. Sans was familiar and safe.

  
  


... As if sensing the discomfort coming off you, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, a move you were grateful for. You leant your head on his own shoulder in response.

  
  


“... yeah.” He said, voice soft, and... was it tight? You couldn’t tell. “... i’m sorry about bringing so many large, threatening men into the house.”

  
  


... You giggled lightly in response, a sound that made him visibly relax. “Didn’t know you had so many large, threatening relatives.”

  
  


“you saying i’m not large and threatening?” He teased. “i’m hurt.”

  
“S’okay, buddy.” You sighed, enjoying the contact. For a skeleton, he’d always been soft, and nice to cuddle. “Us shorties gotta stick together.”

  
  


... Neither of you noticed how far down his hand had gone until Red’s voice called out. “ey, blue, y’comin’ or what!?”

  
  


... The faint weight on your waist lifted and... Sans’s face seemed... melancholic? He gave you a pat on the back and before you could call him back, he turned, leaving you alone in the living room to go sort out whatever was happening with the new guy, the only sound in the room being the still-on television.

  
  


...

  
  


... You turned around to fix the sofa cushions. It was something to do, at least.

  
  


And while you did, your mind wandered significantly.

  
  


Who _was_ this new guy? Why were so many new people showing up? How many relatives did Sans even have...? Was this all of them, or were more gonna appear? You thought it was just Sans and his brother Papyrus, but...

  
  


And Red didn’t seem to recognise the new guy. There was something about how Red and Sans interacted when you first met Red that made you feel like they definitely knew each other on a certain level, and had an understandable relative hatred. They talked like bickering children, they had that dynamic. But... the two of them were so ridgid when confronting the giant at the door that something was just... wrong.

  
  


That was _not_ how you greeted a relative.

  
  


You puffed up a pillow with your hands, deep in thought. All three of them looked the same, definitely, but... maybe skeletons just looked similar? ... Were you being racist thinking that?

  
  


... Maybe something really bad had happened, and he was a relative from really far away who had to come stay? That would make sense. Like... a ‘cousin’, but he’s actually the fifth cousin twice semi removed up down left right B A start.

  
  


Or... was it to do with that big crack in his skull? You shuddered just thinking about it. His eyelight and broken eyesocket could be side effects of whatever event caused that...

  
  


... It even could just be how tall he was. He-

  
  


“... hello.”

  
  


You jumped about two feet into the air, dropping the pillow you’d been holding and spinning around, hands defensively at your chest.

  
  


...

  
  


O-oh.

  
  


The new guy.

  
  


...

  
  


How did he get so close behind you without you hearing?

  
  


“H-hi.” You calmed down, brushing your hands on your pants because you didn’t really know what to do with them. “Sorry, was... thinking.”

  
  


“...” His giant eyelight seemed to stay on your neck for a moment, then go back to your face.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


He was just standing there. Not saying anything.

  
  


...

  
  


... Man of few words...?

  
  


...

  
  


... “Uhm... What’s your name?” You asked, trying to start a conversation, giving a weak smile. You also didn’t want to have to keep mentally referring to him as ‘that guy’ or ‘the new guy’.

  
  


“...” His eyelight rolled downwards to look at the floor, face forming into a kind of... sneer?

  
  


“... horror.” He murmured, breath coming out of his nasal cavity in a soft ‘sst’.

  
  


What the fuck?

  
  


“That’s your name?” You asked, incredulously, before you could stop yourself. You immediately tensed up a little upon realising how bratty and rude that sounded coming out of your mouth... who cares if that’s his name? That’s such a terrible thing to say! (Y/n) you moron...

  
  


“no.” He said, grinding his teeth.

  
  


... You blinked.

  
  


It’s not?

  
  


“it’s what blue calls me.”

  
  


Your brows drew together, mouth opening a little in shock. “Sans calls you _horror?”_

  
  


That’s like... a nickname a _bully_ would use in the playground at school. Sure, he was big and fucking terrifying, but giving him the name _horror_ wouldn’t help! You weren’t even sure if you believed that Sans would do something like that.

  
  


“... Should I call you something else?” You leant to the side a little to catch his attention- he was still staring at the floor. “What do you want to be called?”

  
  


... He paused.

  
  


“... wanna...” His socket narrowed. You’d probably never get over that other socket being so blank and unmoving. “...be?”

  
  


...

  
  


“Yeah.” ... What was so shocking about that? “What do you want to be called?”

  
  


He paused again, seemingly taking a little while to think. The whole time he did so, the eye stayed fixed on you, holding contact in such an unsettling way that you kinda wanted to look away.

  
  


“... skull.” He said, eventually. “... call me skull.”

  
  


“Okay.” You smiled. “Nice to meet you, Skull. I’m (y/n).”

  
  


He nodded.

  
  


...

  
  


... He was a _lot_ less talkative than the other two.

  
  


“... how’d you get in here so fast!?” Came Sans’s voice, suddenly, and you turned to see him walking over in... quite a hurry. More like _striding._ Why did he look so _nervous?_ You were even _more_ concerned when he grabbed your forearm and pulled you back from the now-hostile-again Skull a little, the two sharing an intense glare that only further cemented your previous thought that they might not be related. You squeaked as you stumbled, but Sans’s deceivingly strong grip held you up.

  
  


Either they weren’t family, or something really, _really_ terrible had happened between them.

  
  


Sans let go of your arm and gave you an apologetic glance before he glared a second time at Skull, who sighed heavily and ground his teeth together for a second time, eyelight rolling away from you to the floor again.

  
  


“... our room’s _this way.”_ Sans’s venomous tone caught you off guard and you stepped away from the two a little, the room reeking of iron and pine. These angry skeletons were getting out of hand, and _fast._

  
  


... Unlike his interactions with Red, Sans and Skull seemed to communicate entirely nonverbally, only in very, very angry stares.

  
  


...

  
  


Eventually, Skull growled to himself, backing down and leaving the living room, each footstep heavy, hands buried deep in his pockets, not even looking back.

  
  


“... Sans, what-”

  
  


“i’ll keep an eye on them.” He said, cutting across you. Your brows furrowed and you opened your mouth again to ask him not to fucking interrupt you-

  
  


... He hugged you.

  
  


... You blinked, confused, expression of aggravation falling away as his arms wound around you and his face pressed into your shoulder.

  
  


“... O-oh. Uh...”

  
  


You hugged back, patting him. ... This was... a very brazen display of physical affection. He was usually a lot more volume-down than this... And even when he _did_ hug, it’d be from behind or the side, slowly, timidly.

  
  


“i promise they’ll be gone in no time.” He said, slightly muffled.

  
  


... You pursed your lips.

  
  


That...

  
  


... Why did that sound ominous?

  
  


\---

  
  


In the morning, your alarm had woken you up ungracefully and you’d been in such a haze from a lack of sleep the previous night that you’d completely forgotten anything was different.

  
  


You’d spent so long lying awake in the darkness, thinking, wondering about Skull and his demeanour and Red and how flirtatious he was... so long lying staring at the ceiling considering what event could make them come _here,_ of all places...

  
  


... Well, you only got a few hours of sleep, at most. Which sucked, when you had work in the morning.

  
  


So you stumbled out of bed, changed into smart clothes, ran a brush halfheartedly through your hair and headed into the kitchen to get some coffee.

  
  


It was another bright day, thankfully, so your mood wasn’t all that bad. You turned on the small, white radio Sans used sometimes when he was doing something sciency on the kitchen table, letting a random, bad remix of an older pop song fill the quiet room. It was one of those cash-grab nostalgia attempts where they just took a perfectly good track and made it skip and repeat in a few places with a mediocre drum beat in the background.

  
  


But still. Better than silence.

  
  


In fact, you started to sway your hips a little bit to it. Bad or not, it was music, and you recognised the remixed original track and hummed a tad, too, mind setting itself back into the rhythm of a work week. Make coffee, make breakfast, eat breakfast, drink coffee, get shit together, leave on time to catch the tube, and if you were gonna be late home, leave a note for Sans.

  
  


... He worried a lot. The goof.

  
  


You didn’t have time for anything fancy, so it was just cereal today. Sans wasn’t awake to bully you into sitting down and relaxing while he made the meal. You hummed to yourself, still swaying a little, taking the hot mug in one hand and the breakfast bowl in the other and turning around to-

  
  


“AGH!” You shrieked.

  
  


...

  
  


Skull was at the table.

  
  


Sitting, in dead silence, head turned in your direction, watching with his giant, glowing eyelight.

  
  


Shit he was large.

  
  


“... hi.” Was all he said, lighted socket relaxed. He didn’t even have anything with him, like a newspaper or a device or even a breakfast... he was just sitting there, watching.

  
  


... You relaxed a tiny bit, shock wearing off, gripping your coffee and bowl with less vigour, aware of the tiny amount of milk that’d spilt onto your hand.

  
  


“... H... how long have you been sitting there?” You asked, doing your best to not look at the large, painful crack.

  
  


“a while.”

  
  


...

  
  


Welp. You chuckled, half nervously... He was creepy, definitely, but... it was really hard to muster any abject _fear_ of him. He looked so similar to Sans, after all, just... older? Used? More tired? You didn’t know how to put it.

  
  


... World weary?

  
  


“... Uhm...” You moved opposite him, putting your food items down on the table, pulling out the chair and sitting. “... Alright.”

  
  


You ate in silence, scrolling on your phone in an attempt to ignore the eyelight boring into you. You excused it as that just... how he acts. The more you thought into it, the more it made sense... your brow furrowed in concentration again, eyes not really taking in the info scrolling by. Skull was a quiet type, definitely, so maybe his long periods of staring were his way of... processing information? ... Maybe that crack on his head meant that this kind of thing was normal to him?

  
  


“... where do you work?”

  
  


His question came out of nowhere and you blinked at it, glancing up (way up) at him. His skull was tilted to the side a little, eyelight now observing your mouth, of all places.

  
  


“... Oh?” What an odd question. “Uh... I’m a receptionist.”

  
  


He seemed to like whatever he was seeing because he kept watching your mouth. He nodded, very slightly.

  
  


“... What about you?” You hoped he wasn’t staring because there was something weird on your mouth. You actually wiped your lip with your thumb, embarrassed, and when you looked back up he was holding eye contact again.

  
  


...

  
  


It took him a little while to speak.

  
  


“... don’t have a job.” He decided upon, eventually. You couldn’t tell if he was a little slow minded or really, _really_ thinking about what he was going to say.

  
  


“Nice. Unemployment is fun.”

  
  


...

  
  


He didn’t attempt to continue the conversation any further.

  
  


... So neither did you. Maybe he just preferred silence- you could understand that.

  
  


You finished your breakfast and drained the rest of your coffee, feeling a little better. The staring was actually pretty easy to get used to, it felt less like an invasive, constant assault, and more like someone just observing. His way of interacting... like a bird giving you a side-eye, or a cat watching you for a long period of time, just to see how you tick.

  
  


You turned off your phone and slipped it into your pocket, standing and placing your bowl and spoon in the sink to clean properly when you got home.

  
  


You swirled some water in your cup to remove the coffee stains, feeling his eye watching your back.

  
  


...

  
  


“Do you like coffee?” You asked, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

  
  


... He blinked, heavy, slow.

  
  


“... yeah.”

  
  


The guy looked like he could use something to wake him up. Or even just a warm drink of some kind. “With anything?”

  
  


... He shook his skull, slowly, never looking away.

  
  


“... black.” He rumbled. Of _course_ he liked his coffee black. You chuckled to yourself as you grabbed a new mug, a sound that made him perk a tiny bit.

  
  


Since there was already water and ground beans from your own coffee ready to go it took the machine very little time to grind out a nice cup. In fact, the coffee looked a bit better than your own, less watery and hotter- oh well, caffeine was caffeine. You didn’t have time to be jealous. You turned and crossed the room, placing the drink in front of him on the table mat.

  
  


“I gotta go.” You said, smiling. “Will you still be here when I get back in the evening?”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Heeee... didn’t respond. He just stared at you. He didn’t even acknowledge the steaming coffee in front of him.

  
  


...

  
  


Welp.

  
  


Your smile turned a bit awkward and you felt kinda stupid, it now being your turn to glance at the floor, but you gave him a little wave anyway, and left, wondering if you’d done something wrong.

  
  


\---

  
  


Skull sipped the coffee, quietly, staring at the table, the sensation of the burning hot liquid on his tongue grounding his mind back into his body.

  
  


You stormed up to him without fear.

  
  


You asked him what _he_ wanted to be called.

  
  


You sat with him.

  
  


You talked to him.

  
  


You made him a coffee.

  
  


You didn’t run away screaming when he stared, or spend ages obviously checking out his crack. You didn’t cling to your Sans for protection, in fact... you seemed to be the one protecting _him._

  
  


... The corner of his smile lifted a tiny bit.

  
  


_what a stupid, funny little human._

  
  


\---

  
  


Work was the usual snail’s pace of signing in people and screening phone calls, making sure the front desk had enough pencils or something stupid, and sending a few random emails to guests and scheduling meetings for future events. The whole day felt slow... and the various people who came in were just different shades of boring. A grandma with a broad hat who smelled like those weird strawberry sweets that seem to only exist in old people houses, a guy with thick eyelashes who reminded you of a school friend you hadn’t seen in years, a girl wearing headphones, a knitted cardigan and handmade tights who gave the vibe of someone who posted instagram photos of all the holidays they’d been on with the caption _‘Wish I was still there <3’. _

  
  


Yes, Abby, we get it. You went to the Bahamas.

  
  


The train ride home was usually one of your favourite parts of the work day, especially when everyone had that quiet, exhausted feel to them, and if you managed to snag a chair it was just a smooth ride home in the mutual silence of a tired workforce. And, hey, even if you didn’t get a seat, you didn’t even have that far to go, so your feet were never too pained.

  
  


Except today, a group of morons were playing music and causing a scene, so you got home a little tenser than you would’ve liked, kicking off your shoes and half-yelling-half-grumbling out a small ‘I’m hooome’, letting down your hair.

  
  


... Huh. You paused for a second, hairband still in your hand- you could hear loud whirring noises coming from Sans’s room. Like a large drill... was he fixing something?

  
  


You poked your head into the living room too and found no Red on the couch, either. Maybe the two of them were fixing it together... they definitely seemed to get along better than Skull and Sans.

  
  


...

  
  


Well, that really wasn’t saying much. You got along with the sharp corner of a coffee table better than Sans did with Skull.

  
  


... You wandered into the kitchen, in search of some food, to find... Skull again, at the counter, his giant back to you.

  
  


... Seriously, how could a guy be that tall?

  
  


He’d taken off his dirty hoodie and was cooking, slowly, his movements deliberate, two pans in front of him on the stove- one bubbling violently, sending up plumes of steam, the other with a cover on that was dotted with condensation. He seemed... sad?

  
  


His posture was tight, shoulders hunched, head down. One hand was on the counter and it seemed a little tense, curled, as if he was deep in thought about something that really didn’t make him very happy. You suddenly felt... pity? Why pity, of all emotions, for this behemoth of a skeleton...?

  
  


What he was making looked enough to feed five people, and you stared for a little while... you wondered if it was-

  
  


“pasta.” He said, simply, without even turning around, as if reading your mind and answering your question. It made you jump a bit.

  
  


... How did he know you were there? You didn’t even have your shoes on to make a sound on the ground.

  
  


His voice was low, as tense as the free hand on the counter, which moved to push the covered pot off the gas. He sounded like someone who’d had a _really_ bad day.

  
  


“... I love pasta.” You said, carefully, not wanting to set him off. “... Can I help out?”

  
  


...

  
  


He paused, skull tilting as he looked up, but not turning to face you yet. Did he seem... confused?

  
  


...

  
  


“...”

  
  


...

  
  


... He made a little head movement that seemed like a very slow twitch... until you realised it was him nonverbally telling you to get over there.

  
  


Grateful to have something to do, you smiled, heading over with a little bit of bounce. Maybe he just needed someone to drain and keep an eye on the pasta while he did the sauce? And if Sans hadn’t already come catapulting in here to remove you, it meant he was fine, right?

  
  


“... Need me to handle the pasta?” You asked, standing next to him, leaning over the counter a little so you could look up to his face. On this side of him, you could only see his crack and lighted socket- dare you say it, he looked... less tense.

  
  


He looked at you from the corner of his eye(socket) and nodded, bringing the sauce pot closer to him and shaking it a few times, taking off the lid and checking the contents with a wooden spoon.

  
  


“Ask me if you need to know where anything is, okay?” You said, really trying your best to make him feel at home here.

  
  


He nodded again, and you figured that was all the conversation you were going to get out of him today. So you left it there.

  
  


The pasta only really needed a few more minutes on the stove before it was ready to drain, so technically, you didn’t really help much. You didn’t even know if Skull actually wanted you there with him or if he was just tolerating you since you asked to assist. ... He wasn’t one of those people who could never say no to anyone, was he?

  
  


While you were waiting for it to finish boiling, you found yourself looking at Skull in your spare time, giving a few small glances when it felt like he was busy. He carried himself like someone who’d seen a lot over his lifetime... how old was he? You knew Sans was the human equivalent of somewhere in the twenties and you’d just assumed the same for Red considering his demeanour and overall tone, but Skull...

  
  


Hell, he could be a few hundred years old and you wouldn’t question it.

  
  


And his crack... didn’t Sans say serious monster wounds healed over time, unless one didn’t want them to?

  
  


Once, you peered over, only to find that _he’d_ been staring at _you_ in the meantime. You made a tiny ‘ahem’ sound and turned back to the pot, embarrassed at being caught out like that. You weren’t even sure _why_ you were embarrassed to be caught staring when technically _you_ caught _him,_ but...

  
  


You drained the pasta in a sieve, pleased with your perfect timing. They looked good!

  
  


“Noodles are done!” You said. All this pasta was definitely making you hungry, but you weren’t sure if Skull would want to share... after all, he set this up for himself. The portion was probably perfect for just him... you could make something yourself.

  
  


You headed over to the cupboard and grabbed a glass, filling it at the tap and taking a moment to pause. Now that you’d cooked with him, Skull definitely seemed a bit less scary.

  
  


... And when you finished your water and turned around, he was right behind you, holding...

  
  


Two bowls.

  
  


The confusion you momentarily felt at _how he moved from the stove to over here so quietly despite being the tallest man you’d ever met_ and the surprise at the way the giant shadow cast over you was silenced by him pushing the second, much smaller bowl against your chest.

  
  


... You blinked, but took it, looking up at him. His hand could cover the whole base of the bowl... not to mention your own tiny hands. “I d-”

  
  


“you helped.” He said, simply, the sound of his deep voice buzzing in your chest, with a tone like it was the obvious answer to literally any question you could’ve posed at that moment, his eyelight glowing against the rest of his face.

  
  


And before you could say anything more, he walked over to the table, probably intending to sit down.

  
  


...

  
  


“Hey,” you said, before he pulled his chair out, getting an idea, “I could put on a movie?”

  
  


... Fuck, his face was so hard to read. Even when he was staring directly at you and you had full view of the engorged red iris, it was _so hard to tell._ Was that surprise? Curiosity? _Disgust?_

  
  


“We could sit on the couch and eat there instead.” You grabbed a fork from the cutlery draw. “Better than at the table, right?”

  
  


...

  
  


He nodded.

  
  


He seemed to nod a lot.

  
  


You made sure to be on the sofa first, right at the edge with a pillow on your lap to balance the bowl on, so Skull could decide how far away from you he wanted to sit. If he sat first, you’d have to decide between maybe hurting his feelings and sitting far away, or making him uncomfortable by sitting close.

  
  


... He took a few moments to decide, standing and looking at the couch like it was a half-solved rubik’s cube...

  
  


... Then sat down, nearer to you than you’d expected... less than half a place away from you- you noted, with some hilarity, that Skull was so big the sofa caved inwards toward him and you found yourself almost sliding closer.

  
  


“... What do you wanna watch?” You asked, but he didn’t reply- he didn’t even seem to acknowledge that you’d asked him something. He was eating like a trash compactor, in a non-stop stream... like someone who hadn’t eaten in ages.

  
  


...

  
  


You settled on some random movie Netflix seemed to think you’d like, wondering where Sans and Red were, and if they’d eaten.

  
  


\---

  
  


... Skull looked at the tiny, sleepy human with messy hair, delicate lashes, tiny hands and a set of fragile ribs that was leaning on his arm, fast asleep, having passed out in the first twenty minutes of the movie after eating your food. Your lips were partially open and smudged with a tiny bit of pasta sauce, cheek squished from having your face pressed against the fabric of his shirt.

  
  


... He stared, unbrokenly.

  
  


He liked your lips. A lot. They looked soft... _alive._ They were at their best when you talked. He could practically _feel_ the blood pulsing through them just by _looking._

  
  


... He was glad you were asleep. Leaning on him... He could stare more.

  
  


You were such a stupid, enticing little thing. Just the memories of what you’d said and done made him grin a bit... Being all friendly at him, pretending to not mind his crack or eye, helping him with food and offering to watch a movie with him. Did you even know who you were talking to? Couldn’t you guess he wasn’t the type you wanted to get buddy buddy with?

  
  


Did you have _any_ preservational instincts whatsoever?

  
  


... He chuckled, almost silently to himself, lifting a giant hand and tracing along your cheek, eyelight dilating wider, smile suddenly eerily relaxed.

  
  


...

  
  


He couldn’t deny he was fascinated by how such a tiny, fragile human could look at someone like him, and, instead of immediately running and screaming, think that spaghetti and a movie was a good idea. He probably would’ve killed you, had this not been Blue’s apartment- Blue would sense the attack coming in a split second and be there to whisk you away (speaking of the vanilla fucker- he hadn’t realised you’d come home yet, not hearing you over the sound of him and the fake trying to fix the machine. Something about having Blue’s human alone with him gave him a surge of petty satisfaction). He also couldn’t deny that your skin felt good on his hand, as did your breath, so fluttery and small... like a bird.

  
  


...  
  


... What a strange, fearless, delicate little human Blue had.


	5. Three's a crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You decide to go out as a group.

_just leave us alone!_

  
  


Sans...

  
  


... was in a _mood._

  
  


You'd noticed it the moment you came home from work, tired both mentally and physically, feet sore from standing and not being able to get a seat and mind sore from dealing with a ridiculous guy who wouldn't leave the office and kept trying to get in to see your boss, despite not having booked a meeting.

  
  


_“I'm a close friend. He knows me.”_

  
  


SUUUUURREEE.

  
  


You entered, the house warmer than usual, taking your hair down from it's bun and announced your arrival, but... no one replied.

  
  


So you headed to the kitchen, poking your head in- still no one...? The curtains were drawn together (immediately unusual) and radio was on, humming gently, playing a much nicer indie song with a sweet woman's voice over a simple guitar strum. You crossed the room and turned it off- no point having it on if no one was even in here to listen- and checked the room again. Some dishes were in the sink, piled on each other, and two glasses sat on the counter, the insides coated with dried bubbles from some kind of frothy drink. The table was dotted with crumbs, too.

  
  


“... Guys?” You said, again, a little louder than before. Did they go out somewhere...?

  
  


... Just then, Sans appeared.

  
  


Literally _appeared-_ he showed up out of nowhere, teleporting into the kitchen with no warning. He looked tired, with large shadows under his sockets and dim eyelights... His jacket and usual white shirt was gone, replaced with a ratty orange vest that _really_ didn't suit him, full of holes and dotted with smears of oil and what definitely looked like a burn mark on the bottom.

  
  


Apparently he was too tired to notice you were back, opening the fridge and rustling around a bit, grabbing a pack of beers you hadn't even known was in there.

  
  


... You leant down and forward, trying to place yourself in his line of sight and catch his attention, kinda curious as to why he was so tired.

  
  


“... Been busy?” You asked, soft.

  
  


He jumped a little at your voice and spun around, sockets wide... only for them to lid again and his shoulders to relax upon realising it was you.

  
  


“... heya. didn't hear you come in.” He said, taking a beer out of the pack and placing the rest on the table, shutting the fridge door with his foot. It closed with a soft, suctioning 'shk'.

  
  


... Did he sound tense?

  
  


“Only just got home.” You straightened again... he must really be working if he’s drinking. Sans was never the type to casually drink- he only ever consumed alcohol when he was at Grillby’s with you, or increasingly stressed from some mysterious thing he was working on.

  
  


... He never told you what he was working on. You didn’t even know what his machines _did._

  
  


“...Maybe we should put a bell up.” You joked, trying to lift his mood. “You didn't hear me yesterday either.”

  
  


... Well, your attempt failed, because he only seemed to sour further at that, smile flatter and strained as he looked away, leaning the small of his back (spine?) on the table and opening the can with a soft 'hsst’.

  
  


“yeah. uh, next time, come find me before you nap on skull.” He said, mumbling into the cap, taking a swig.

  
  


“Nap on...” Your brows came together for a second, and then...

  
  


You blinked, flushing a tiny bit, memories of last night coming back. You cooked with Skull, then put on a movie... You vaguely remembered your eyelids getting very, very heavy as Netflix’s previous assumption that you’d enjoy the movie became increasingly more incorrect...

  
  


And then...

  
  


“... D-did I fall asleep on him...?” You put a hand on your cheek almost subconsciously, embarrassed, suddenly recalling the feeling of Skull’s hoodie on your face. The guy only _just_ got here and you’re already draping yourself on him like a blanket? Jesus, fool, give him some space! You shook your head, not sure if you were going to be able to look at Skull properly later. Should you apologise...? “I-is that why I was in bed when I woke up?”

  
  


“mhm.” Sans stared at his beer, smile tight. “had to put you back in your room.”

  
  


Now you were even _more_ embarrassed. “... Th-thanks,” You stammered, face probably getting steadily redder, hands fidgeting on your thighs, trying to find something to hold onto as your mind supplied you with images of Sans carrying you bridal-style to bed that made your heart beat just a little faster. Did... did he carry you like that, or...!? What anime was this?!

  
  


He flushed a little, too, relaxing finally. “... n-no problem, kiddo.”

  
  


“... So, uhm...” You began, clearing your throat, taking off your cardigan so you had something to do and hoping your face would calm down. “...Where're the others?”

  
  


“helping me with the machine.” He finished his beer (that was quick) and crushed the can flat between his palms in a casual show of strength. You briefly wondered how strong the guys could be if tiny _Sans_ was so deceptively tough... “they're in my room- it's why i went to get some beer.”

  
  


“Oh.” Was your response. That explained why no one heard you come in. Sans’s room was apparently the most soundproofed place in the entire city, given what goes on in there.

  
  


...

  
  


“... Hey, Sans.” You said, hoping your question would be okay to ask.

  
  


“mm?” He responded.

  
  


You thought for a moment. “... Where are the guys from?”

  
  


“... oh.” He glanced off to the side, ‘lips’ pursing over his teeth, fiddling with the crushed can. “well... can't remember the names of the areas, but... they both come from places pretty similar to here.”

  
  


“Same place?”

  
  


“nah. ho-” He coughed, cutting the sentence before he could finish it, still looking away. “uh... _skull’s_ home is in the middle of nowhere someplace cold, and they’re mostly survival based, from what i’ve heard. hunter-gathery, if you know what i mean.” He put his crushed can onto the table. “i think i can infer that there’s not really that much food about but he won’t talk about it.”

  
  


You nodded along with it. That explained why he ate like his stomach was a black hole last night. Food was probably a very precious commodity to him...

  
  


... You fiddled with your cardigan that was now folded over your arm. You... you kinda wanted to ask about Skull’s head wound. Even now, just thinking about it, your stomach felt weird... it was like looking at a severely broken neck. Something about it made you feel like it shouldn’t be there.

  
  


...

  
  


You internally shook your head, deciding that it was almost definitely a private thing. You didn’t want to be rude and nosy, and if it was a delicate subject, you’d rather hear it from Skull himself.

  
  


“What about Red?” You asked, instead.

  
  


“red comes from a pretty bad place.” Sans seemed to be a bit more confident about Red’s past. “pretty ghetto-y, everyone’s at each other’s throats. kinda kill-or-be-killed atmosphere, y’know?”

  
  


“... Yeah. That sounds rough.” You grimaced. “... Is Skull here for the same reason as Red?”

  
  


“yeah.” He nodded.

  
  


You sighed, giving him a tired smile.“Hope that works out for you, man.”

  
  


“me too.” He smiled back.

  
  


... He paused, then...

  
  


He did the funny thing where he held your gaze and took a breath. ... But this time, he actually said something, his hand going up to the back of his skull to rub it.

  
  


“hey, uh, i know you're super tired from work and everything, but...” You blinked, and he paused for a second, apparently making himself continue. “we... if... if you feel like going out somewhere together and hanging out... j-just me and you, we could...”

  
  


“blue!” Came Red’s loud, sudden tone, enough to make both of you jump and for Sans’s eyelights to startle in a tiny flicker of light. “the fuck’s takin’ you so long? didja fall in the fri-”

  
  


Red came round the corner.

  
  


... Oh no he’s _more hot._

  
  


Clearly this guy was _made_ for engine work because he looked _so hot like that._ Apparently he’d stripped down to just shorts and a tank top that was _much_ too small for him (Fuck, that ribcage), showing off his big arms smudged with oil, and riding up a little on his middle to reveal a sneak peak into the curve of his pelvis.

  
  


... When he saw how far down your eyes went before they snapped back up in embarrassment, his cheekbones dusted with red and he bounced his brows at you suggestively, obviously very pleased with himself.

  
  


You could feel Sans _seething_ beside you.

  
  


“... heeeey, dollface.” Red purred, from the door, crossing his arms with that stupid sexy grin. “fancy goin’ somewhere toni-”

  
  


Skull entered. His face was clean, clothes normal, but his hands were completely black with oil.

  
  


And just like that, Red stopped.

  
  


Skull didn’t even need to say anything. He looked at you, looked at Red... then settled on Sans.

  
  


...

  
  


You backed up a little, edging away from them as their three-way staring contest started sending shivers up your spine. They looked like they wanted to _kill_ each other, eyeights sharp and bright, air getting significantly heavier.

  
  


“fight?” Red said, breaking the silence, and Sans seemed to square up, replying with a tight smile and a quick “game on,”, his shoulders un-slouching and fists tightening.

  
  


And when Skull’s creepy grin widened, you panicked.

  
  


“N-no!” You stepped forward. You didn’t want an all-out brawl in the middle of your kitchen...

  
  


...

  
  


Three burning red, and two stark white eyelights were now turned in your direction.

  
  


For a moment, circled by three incredibly strong (and two incredibly _tall_ ) skeletons was almost enough to send you running out of the apartment, but you had to harden yourself and hold your ground. You swallowed, trying to sound imposing, digging your heels in.

  
  


“No fighting!” Your voice sounded a lot braver than you felt. “We have neighbours!”

  
  


...

  
  


... Red grumbled to himself, and turned away. Sans sighed and popped open another beer- Skull walked straight past you to the sink and turned on the faucet, washing his oil-stained hands.

  
  


... Holy shit it worked.

  
  


You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, running your hands over your thighs, as if you were wiping them off, despite there being no reason to. It was a relief to know that you could actually control these giant skeletons.

  
  


“Let’s... let’s just all try to get along, okay?” You asked, uneasily.

  
  


... Did Sans just snicker? And Skull’s shoulders definitely bounced.

  
  


You turned to the former, and he coughed to himself, going a bit blue, righting a sleeve of his orange top that’d slipped down a bit, suddenly not so confident. You frowned.

  
  


“Don’t laugh at me. I’m serious.”

  
  


“doll,” Red wasn’t even bothering to hide his mirth, ridiculous sexiness making it hard to be mad at him for that. He started walking toward you, an encompassing energy following him, gold tooth in his big smile glittering as he came closer. “i think the only thing we can get on about is ‘at we _can’t_ get along.”

  
  


A small hum of approval from Sans.

  
  


“soooo,” Red rumbled...

  
  


... And you didn’t notice how close he was until he was _really close,_ close enough to block out the light. The side of his pelvis bumped your hip, smokey scent strengthening as a sneaky hand found itself on your side, just above your waist, the delicate touch sending goosebumps all over your skin under your clothing. You turned a little in surprise at how fast he approached, but just ended up chest-to-chest, his hand now on the _small of your back holy shit,_ a tiny intake of breath, wide eyes and TOO HOT CHEEKS giving away your current state at his closeness.

  
  


You didn’t see the way Sans straightened and jumped up like he’d just been electrocuted. You felt almost _dizzy,_ with how close Red was... His shark grin widened, silhouetted face pleased and predatorial, voice a smooth invitation.

  
  


“... about goin’ somewhere...” He purred.

  
  


...

  
  


The water faucet turned off, with an almost ominous squeaking sound.

  
  


Skull straightened... shaking his hands once, to dispel the droplets.

  
  


... Red had frozen.

  
  


...

  
  


You stepped away from him a tad, stammering out; “Wh-why don’t we _all_ go to Grillby’s _together!?_ As a _group?”_

  
  


... Silence from all three.

  
  


... Sans seemed to slump a little, lips twisting over his teeth as he glared at Red, but he nodded eventually- Skull didn’t even respond, engaged in another bout of staring, this time at the tap in what looked like just boredom.

  
  


... "We don't have to go if you don't want to."

  
  


"n-no!" Sans suddenly exclaimed, taking you by surprise with his random, loud enthusiasm. "no, it's fine. i wanna go. i'll go."

  
  


He came a few steps closer to you, almost touching you, directly on your opposite side. You were boxed in by skeletons.

  
  


Red sighed, shrugging to himself, then turning to you with a returned grin, ignoring Sans.

  
  


“me too. i’ll take what i can get, dollface.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Skull didn’t like this one bit.

  
  


He didn’t like going out into the open, anyway. Too many threats, too many variables, too many large spaces, too many directions to be attacked from. That was something ingrained in him after years of being jumped from the mists, caught off guard from behind while digging through trash for clothes, or stalking prey only to find _he_ was being stalked... inside is safe. Outside is bad. It took him long enough, but he knew that you only ever leave the house if completely necessary.

  
  


And that was when he was in the Underground... a place he knew like every scar on his ribs. It may’ve been hell, but he could walk through Snowdin with his eyesockets covered and hands bound, if he was to be so idiotic as to do so, something that served him well in times of trouble.

  
  


But this? This was the _surface._ So much more open, so many more variables, so many different ways to die.

  
  


And here he was... leaving the only safe space he had right now for some... _night out_ with alternate versions of himself.

  
  


_Pathetic_ alternate versions of himself.

  
  


He walked behind the group, observing the way Red and Blue fought over you like children behind your back. It was like a funny little game- how much glaring can they do when you’re not looking? Who can get you to laugh the most with their stupid jokes that stink of desperation? Who can dominate the conversation the most?

  
  


Red (or _the copy_ , Skull thought,) seemed far more confident and forward than Blue in his endeavour to get your attention. Admittedly, Skull hated Red the least out of the two- Red had also come from a violent world, and suffered visible scars. Not nearly to Skull’s extent, but at least Red wasn’t a sheltered little _bitch._

  
  


Blue?

  
  


Blue’d probably never experienced real hardship in his _life._

  
  


He _despised_ Blue.

  
  


He hated seeing him, he hated hearing him, he hated smelling his disgusting stench all over everything. When he looked at Blue it was like looking in a mirror... what he used to be... what he could’ve been had things just been different. Shiny, happy, punny, new. An unobtainable reflection of himself...

  
  


... A reflection that looked back at him in disgust.

  
  


...

  
  


Though, that wasn’t to say he liked Red. Red was definitely more competent in general than Blue in the field of talking to women and/or confidence, as proven by his little _move_ on you earlier, a move that...

  
  


... Made Skull feel weird. A bad kind of weird. Watching him... _touch_ you...

  
  


... He felt...

  
  


... A hand came up and his phalanges subconsciously, and very slowly, started to hook inside his socket, the sharp pain of pushing into an open wound rippling through his skull. His mind started to wander... you were just some stupid, brave little human, so why...

  
  


... Why did he feel posse-

  
  


“Skull!” Your voice cut through his thoughts, and his fingers came away from his socket as if they didn’t belong to him, instantaneously, instead shoving back into his pocket. He focused, and noted the three of you had gotten a lot further ahead while he’d been buried in his own mind and hatred.

  
  


“C’mon!”

  
  


... You’d stopped, the other two only a few steps ahead, looking back... you were waiting for him to catch up, a little smile on your face.

  
  


... Waiting for _him._

  
  


You’d...

  
  


... Stopped.

  
  


... He took a little breath through his nasal cavity, eyelight almost quivering in its socket.

  
  


_... what...?_

  
  


_... why is my chest...?_

  
  


...

  
  


_stop it, you moron. get a hold of yourself._

  
  


... He allowed himself to take larger strides to catch up with you.

  
  


\---

  
  


If Red was completely honest with himself, he wanted to drop this whole ‘cousin’ thing right now. He picked at something in the fluff of his hood, ignoring Blue’s gaze, as if the midget was expecting _him_ to do something to stop you from waiting for Skull. His brow furrowed... The extreme levels of bullshit he was having to keep up with was already taking a toll on his mental state... he just wanted to tap that ass before he got sent back to his Underground hell, why was he playing along with this game?

  
  


He glanced over at you, still waiting for Skull patiently, that little smile on your face. He’d picked up on your confused body language occasionally... he knew you were questioning Blue’s family lie. Skull and Blue couldn’t pretend to be family if their very existence depended on it. (Red found himself _veeery_ keen to learn more about _your_ ‘body language’...)

  
  


And you were a smart one. ... He liked that. A _lot._ There was something so... _spicy_ about you in that sense... and it was hella fucking rewarding when he got you to stammer and flush.

  
  


Even if it’d been a power move in front of the other two, your reaction to his little request earlier had been perfect. How your eyes had wandered, how your breathing had cut when he touched you...

  
  


He watched you let Skull catch up, the big guy really seeming to take his time, each stride long and slow. Skull had this... tendency to stare unbrokenly at you in a way that made Red feel uncomfortable.

  
  


...

  
  


And jealous. He turned away, still picking at the fur, scowling a little- Crackasshole got to stare at you without seeming creepy because his entire _aura_ was creep. It nullified everything.

  
  


Speaking of staring... Red’s own eyelights also wandered back to you- downwards. Eheh. _Eheh._ His grin picked up again, mood lightening.

  
  


That _ass._ He’d _always_ been an ass man, but... _Goddamn._ He slipped his hands into his hoodie pockets to stop himself just reaching out and grabbing a handful.

  
  


He wanted _that_ to himself.

  
  


...He sighed, looking up... He’d put up with these idiots if it meant more time with you.

  
  


... and more time for you to realise that he was _clearly_ the best choice.

  
  


\---

  
  


“it’s just down this road.” Sans said, trying to maintain his smile despite the sweat already beading on the back of his skull and the intense hate burning in his sockets, phalanges itching to just grab you and teleport straight back home again. Why did _they_ have to come too... “nothing can quite beat a good old burger.”

  
  


“dunno...” Red purred, looking at you with a raised brow and lidded sockets. “... there’s somethin’ else i’d rather be eatin’ right now...”

  
  


“Don’t be disgusting.” You giggled, hitting his arm to gain a deep chuckle, and Sans bristled internally at the casual touching, eyesocket twitching for a second, grin harder and harder to maintain.

  
  


“... heh... yeah...”

  
  


Grillby’s was _his_ place. _Your_ place... Just him and you. Your special place. No one else... and these... _threats_ interfering and going there was just making his nonexistent blood boil. He’d had such a perfect relationship with you and practically no rivals to contend with and then suddenly he was saddled with TWO AT ONCE.

  
  


His Soul ached, and his smile fell for a second as he looked at you, with Skull looming over your shoulder and Red taking up your attention and making you laugh. Why would you ever choose an unfunny _loser_ like him now that _they_ were here? Why would you choose the short, round, hotdog-smelling guy who couldn’t express his feelings if they were made up of words of one letter over the tall, ripped bastard with enough charm to make a whole room of panties drop?

  
  


He shook the thoughts away, stashing his self-hatred for another time. He might hate these people, he might hate how they talk and walk and _loom_ but he had to accompany you because he’d be sent back to the Underground before he left you with them to fend for yourself.

  
  


And, god _damn_ it, he was at the top of the chain, he wasn’t going to roll over yet.

  
  


\---

  
  


“We’re here!” You chirped, pushing open the Grillby’s door, the little bell chime familiar and friendly. It felt good to be back here, despite the immediate stares your group was getting- each time you came here you just seemed to bring another skeleton along too. The people here must think you're a skele-magnet.

  
  


...

  
  


The chatter completely cut.

  
  


As you made your way to the bar, the three boys trailing along behind you, a lot of the talking just... stopped. The idle chatter usually accompanying the music in the background ambience of the restaurant had almost entirely paused.

  
  


... Your smile wobbled a bit, getting the slightest smidge forced, nerves beginning to waver. Why...

  
  


You turned and looked over your shoulder at the patrons around their tables, suddenly not so joyous anymore, some with plates in front of them and some just with empty glasses of various colourful liquids... they all seemed to be staring very hard at...

  
  


... _Skull._

  
  


Of course... You blinked in realisation. The terrible head wound that’d made you so uncomfortable... naturally, it would attract attention. Especially if everyone here was so used to seeing the shiny, untouched skulls of Sans and Red. Your own eyes darted to the vicious, empty crack for a moment, before coming back down to his iris again as your stomach filled with guilt for not understanding sooner that this would happen.

  
  


... Skull's eye, as if sensing another person looking, rolled over to you, focusing for a moment.

  
  


...

  
  


After a few moments, he shrugged, apparently signalling that he was indifferent to the attention, functioning socket lidded and bored- maybe he was used to it? But... you still felt bad as you turned away. You weren't as good as him at ignoring the stares of the patrons around you.

  
  


“... I-I’d like to sit at a table instead, today. That okay?” You asked, pulling up a smile, trying to divert their attention. You also didn't want to sit so out in the open on the bar stools...

  
  


Red didn’t seem to mind and Skull was still staring, uncaring, at the people in the room. ... You could've sworn his eyelight was still flicking over to you every now and then but whenever you checked, he wasn't looking.

  
  


Sans’s casual smile returned in full force, capturing your attention. “sure. no problem.”

  
  


...

  
  


Except there was indeed one problem, as you approached the seats.

  
  


The table available was a four-seater- which normally wouldn’t be an issue.

  
  


But a four-seater meant only _one_ of them could sit next to you.

  
  


You went to sit down, and felt a hand on your shoulder- you turned around to see Sans, his casual grin now wider (and not quite as casual).

  
  


“hey, kiddo, mind if i-”

  
  


He was cut off by a very large hand landing on _his_ shoulder. Skull’s grin was tighter than ever, red pupil contacting as he stared down at your much smaller roommate.

  
  


... Sans turned to Skull, letting go of you, levelling him with a look you could only describe as _hateful._ Skull responded by tilting his head to the side and shooting back a large smile full of sharp, sharp teeth- you could’ve sworn a little crackle of lightning passed between them- did that table at the back just _leave!?_

  
  


You looked at Red, hoping for some kind of sanity around here, and he just... swept forward, unnoticed by the angry pair, and slunk an arm around your shoulders.

  
  


“don’t mind ‘em, dollface.” He purred, low, drawing you closer to him, and suddenly you were in the seat closest to the wall with him next to you, Red having swiftly jumped in when the others weren’t paying attention. You found yourself flushing again at how near he was, your face almost against his massive, broad chest, hum of his Soul clearly audible. You could feel his voice vibrating through his bones... “they, ah... they 'ave some issues.”

  
  


“Clearly.” You said, pulling away a little. Apparently you spoke loud enough because three eyelights snapped in your direction, taking in the sight of Red lounging against the seat with his arm around your shoulders, a smug grin on his face.

  
  


Both their (albeit fake, and worryingly large) grins dropped.

  
  


“c’mon boys.” Red hummed, and you could smell the cockiness in his tone. He seemed very at home in this bar-like environment, with the faint smell of polished wood and Grillby's flames only accentuating Red's smokey, thistly scent. “why don’tcha sit down an’ join us?”

  
  


...

  
  


Skull sat heavily, opposite you, with a resounding 'fwump', large enough to take up the whole seat and a bit more.

  
  


... His eye glanced up at you for a moment.

  
  


...

  
  


... And then it rolled to Red, and down to the table.

  
  


It took Sans another moment to stop seething at whatever had happened between him and his large ‘cousin’- you sent a concerned glance his way... to which he replied by just taking a breath and sitting next to Skull, teeth visibly gritting together.

  
  


"... Did something happen between you guys?" You asked, concerned and confused on behalf of the skeletons. "Am I allowed to know?"

  
  


Red grinned. "we all wanna fu-"

  
  


"fight." Sans interrupted, holding a level glare at Red... who shuffled uncomfortably next to you, looking away, the seat creaking as he did so. So much for 'in his environment'. "we all wanna fight."

  
  


"Over what?" You asked, aware that Skull was staring at you again.

  
  


"... family shit." Sans told you, pausing and furrowing his brow slightly, as if waiting for Red to interject. And when he didn't, Sans relaxed, giving you a smile that you immediately knew was fake. "don't worry about it."

  
  


"... hey." Red purred, next to you, arm that was just above your shoulders finally moving so he could rest both his elbows on the table. "y'know, before i was born, god said i could choose between a huge dick an' a great memory."

  
  


You snorted a little, despite how Sans grimaced. The chatter of the bar was starting to come back slowly now, finally filling the out-of-place silence, if quietly. "Oh really?"

  
  


"mhm." He winked, voice becoming a low purr. "can't remember what i chose."

  
  


"... Noooooo." You groaned, shoulders bouncing, putting your head in your hands. Not _again..._

  
  


  
  


"speaking of god..." Sans said, across the table, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them, eyelights focused squarely on Red. "i heard atheism is a non- _prophet_ organisation."

  
  


He just looked so _serious_ and _foreboding,_ borderline THREATENING when making such a dumb pun that it cracked you up even more than Red's joke, cackling and biting your lip to try and keep yourself from descending any further into laughter.

  
  


Without skipping a beat, Red hopped on, turning to the blue-clad skeleton with challenge in his eyelights. "nuns don't wear bras- god supports everything."

  
  


... Oh no.

  
  


Sans's sockets narrowed- challenge accepted. "light doesn't have mass. it's not even catholic."

  
  


No.

  
  


"y'know, i'm catholic." Red grinned. "been addicted ta cats my whole life. well... pussies."

  
  


IT WAS A PUN BATTLE.

  
  


"my friend's brother was a junkie until he found god. ... when he overdosed."

  
  


You'd never heard Sans crack out these kinds of jokes before. _Ever._ Perhaps it was the competition in the form of Red, who seemed just as eager to flex his metaphorical joke muscles in front of you, that forced him to keep up the game instead of just dissolving into shitty nonsensical knock-knocks. But either way, you couldn't handle this, just dissolving into background laughter.

  
  


"god's just like a regular dude. if you ain't on your knees, he's not interested."

  
  


"i heard he's only really ever responsive to knee-mail."

  
  


"what's worse than 10 babies nailed to a tree?"

  
  


...

  
  


Skull?

  
  


You looked up from your position hiding and trying to stop the giggles, eyes wide and blinking, surprised at him even speaking up. The other two cut off, shocked... He had been keeping so quiet this whole time...

  
  


He seemed... slightly unsure of himself? You didn't know what clued you to it but there was something in the way his working socket was very slightly squinted and his smile was curling a bit too tight at the corners. The whole table was staring at him now, waiting for the next part.

  
  


...

  
  


"... one baby nailed to 10 trees." He said, voice a rumble, eyelight wide and staring at the wall next to him. His grin got even tenser as the punchline finally left his 'lips', as if he was regretting even saying it in the first place.

  
  


... A beat of silence.

  
  


...

  
  


You laughed.

  
  


All three of them turned to you when you did- Sans in what looked like horror, eyelights dim and sockets wide, Red in complete confusion, one brow bone high, and Skull in...

  
  


... Relieved joy. His iris dilated, just a bit, socket crinkling at the corners...He even chuckled very quietly along with your giggles, apparently proud of himself, relaxing back into his seat. You weren't actually sure if your laughs were from enjoying the joke or from the shock of such a dark thing coming out in the middle of a much lighter pun war but either way, you'd laughed, and Skull had really enjoyed your reaction.

  
  


"Oh my God that's so _evil."_ You wiped the corner of your eye, cheeks probably a bit red from all the laughing. "Just... just wow."

  
  


Skull _grinned._

  
  


And before anyone else could open their big, giant-toothed mouths, you interjected, raising a hand, having taken a deep breath to calm the giggles.

  
  


"Okay, enough with the puns now." You snorted. "Let's... let's just order."


	6. From my head tomatoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans takes a small step forward.

_The rain drilled against the window... well, drill was the wrong word. It seemed to... patter. Spill? No, not spill... It fell straight down, windless, soft, gentle. There wasn’t quite a word one could use to describe the way the rain fell that day._

_The room was dim, the only visible light being the greyish glow filtering through the clouds and in from the glass. Silence was cast over the whole apartment complex like a sleepy blanket, as if the world had paused to breathe and listen to the rain, no one daring to break the spell on such a grey Saturday afternoon._

_“Power went out.” You said, voice soft, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Sans could see the reflection of the window in your eyes, the mirrored lights as the bright colours of the city outside your tiny world moved. You’d moved the couch closer to the window._

_“... something wrong...?” He asked. He’d never seen you look so solemn._

_You turned to him fully, shadows of droplets casting across your cheek, and for a moment, his Soul seemed to... shake._

_“Come watch the rain with me.”_

... Even just heading up the stairs, you could hear noises coming from your apartment. Your brows immediately furrowed... Voices, shouting, a slam...? What the hell were they doing up there?

... You picked up the pace just a little, jumping the top two stairs, nearly bumping into a neighbour but just about dodging around them with a small apology, too preoccupied with getting home to properly stop and greet the similarly aged man you’d previously struck up a semi-decent friendship with.

What the hell was going _on...?_

You approached the apartment, key in hand, and as you got closer you could clearly hear the voices through the thin walls.

“get yer tiny vanilla hands off me.”

“get your copycat hands off _me.”_

A snarl. “son of a- just cus yer the fucking _‘original’_ you think yer sooo entitled!?”

“yep.” Your key went into the lock. “unlike you, i’m certainly entitled to (y-”

You pushed the door open and beelined.

...

Sans and Red were stood there, in the middle of the room, staring at you like two kids who’d just been walked in on by their mom during private time. Red, sweating, had two hands fisted in the neck of Sans’s jacket- Sans had a hand wrapped firmly around Red’s skeletal ‘neck’, a slight raise in the final joints of the finger cluing you to the fact that he was using the sharp points at the end of his phalanges as claws.

...

“told you.” Skull rumbled simply, getting up from his uninvolved position on the couch and disappearing into the kitchen past the now-frozen idiots who looked like a paused movie fight scene.

... You internally snapped.

_“Put him down!”_ You yelled, eyebrows rising, moving toward them, and despite how small you technically were they still both let go like the other skeleton was made of burning hot iron, Red even moving back a few steps.

Your hackles were raised- you leave the house for a few hours at most and _this_ is what you come back to.

“What the _fuck’s_ going on?!” You asked- well, rather demanded- advancing until you were just a few paces from the two of them, still holding the apartment key in one hand.

... Neither of them made any move to speak. Both were sweating, but at least Red had the decency to hold eye contact, unlike Sans, who was trained firmly on the floor, turtling very slightly into the neck of his hoodie in a defensive move.

...

“... Well?” You asked _again,_ when neither explained, looking between them for an answer. “Any reason why you’re fighting like _children?_ Is no one going to say anything?!”

... Nope.

Your frustration boiled up further, threatening to spill- you felt like a mom telling off her sons. They were sure acting like that was the case.

You gritted your teeth together. “We’re all adults in here. _Act like it._ When I get a complaint from downstairs about the noise it’ll be _you two,”_ you gestured between them with your finger, “who are apologising. Understood?”

“... yeah.” “mhm.” Red cracked, eyelights also wandering off.

... You groaned to yourself, turning away and instead heading to the kitchen, looping your bag over your shoulder and just sitting it on the counter for now while you made yourself something to eat. You glanced at the table, hoping to see Skull sitting there or something, but... he was nowhere to be found.

Probably snuck off again with his crazy silent footsteps.

“... kiddo?” Behind you. Sans sounded small, and nervous- you didn’t turn around to greet him, instead going to the fridge and taking a look inside.

“Sans.” You sighed.

His footsteps shuffled closer to you. You could practically _hear_ him fidgeting.

“... how much of that did you hear?” He asked, still soft.

“Red getting mad, and you saying something about being entitled.” You emerged from the fridge, holding one of the few beers Sans and the others hadn’t demolished while working earlier. You were right, he did look very nervous- phalanges clicking quietly as he rubbed his hands together. “But, I mean... I could basically hear you from the moment I entered the building. I’m surprised no one else came to tell you off.”

“i-it’s just...” He started, eyelights wandering off again. You waited, but he didn’t continue, still trying to get something together.

“Sans, I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with your cousins.” You patted him on the shoulder, then checked the contents of the beer on the side of the can and promptly changed your mind, putting it back in the fridge and closing the door. “And I can understand if it’s a bumpy one, I won’t intrude. But...” You sighed a second time. _“Please_ try to keep your voices down? I really don’t want to get anyone evicted because there was one too many shouting matches.”

“... alright.” He gave you a small grin. You smiled back- he seemed to be radiating a tired aura.

“Thanks.”

“... can we go on a walk together?” He asked, voice still soft, eyelights darting back to the living room for just a second. “... just the two of us?”

It occured to you that you actually hadn’t spent that much time with your roommate since the other guys moved in. “Need a break from those two?”

“... yeah.” He nodded.

“Think it’s safe to leave them alone together?”

“they’ll be fine.”

“...Sure." You grabbed your bag from the table. "No problem. Just lemme get changed.”

\---

Sans chose the park, of course.

It was his favourite place outside of Grillby’s... and it wasn’t too far away from home. It wasn’t exactly the biggest of parks, nor the fanciest, but it had the odd pond filled with reeds and tall plants, or the occasional bench dotted here and there for rest or to feed the numerous birds that enjoyed the free food the area came with. Pigeons, in particular, seemed to enjoy the place.

A few times before the two of you had befriended each other you’d find Sans sitting around in the park, writing something down in a little notepad or napping with a pigeon getting dangerously close to pooping on his skull. One of the few times he exercised out of his own volition- going to the park to walk about and clear his mind of whatever stress his mysterious sciency stuff was causing him.

It was a warm evening, and Sans seemed keen to just meander around the rough gravelly pathways with you, watching the occasional tiny furious dog bound by and freak out the birds. The sky was... heavy, almost, light fading, otherwise boring clouds with sun-painted underbellies drifting aimlessly in the windless sky, slowly losing their own luster too.

You looked down from this and back to your roommate, who was... concerningly un-punny. You’d been out here for almost twenty minutes and he had yet to crack a pun... or even a few words... hell, he had yet to crack a _smile._

Even as the two of you sat down together at his favourite bench (in direct view of the pond and sky), he didn’t utter a word, just staring at the way the sunset sky hit the water of the tiny pool.

You’d decided (at first) to let him speak on his own terms, leaning back in the chair a little and trying to enjoy the view yourself, but finding your own breathing too loud and your fingers too fidgety, not comfortable in your jacket pocket or on your lap. Maybe he was just... tired? His tiny eyelights and low smile seemed to attest to this. You didn’t _know._ It was flattering that despite his obvious tense aura he still wanted you to come with him on his honorary mind-clearing walk, but this was stressful.

And he was slouching in his seat... so much so that for once, you were taller.

“Sans?” You asked, breaking him out of whatever reviere he was in, so much so that he sat up straighter. “... Something wrong?”

“... uh... no. nope.” His eyelights darted to you and you noticed that he very faintly began to sweat. He grinned, a grin faker than plastic breasts that made your face fall into a flat, unimpressed expression.

...

“okay, okay.” He relented, shrinking down even further into his seat, sweating more. “don’t look at me like that.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” You countered, shuffling a bit closer to him to hook your arm in his.

...

It took him a moment, but his skull gently fell sideways onto your shoulder, slump giving him more space to reach, a big sigh making his whole ribcage press against the fabric of his hoodie, stretching it.

  
  


“... it’s hard to explain.” He said, baritone soft.

“Try me.” You countered, again.

“i dunno _how_ to explain.”

“You’re smart. Think of an analogy.”

...

He took a moment. You couldn’t see his expression.

“d’you ever feel like... like you...” More pausing. The sun slipped behind a small cloud for a moment. “like something _so_ important to you is gonna be taken away and there’s nothing you can do about it because you’re just not good enough? _not smart enough_. the people around you are you, but better, _different._ you’re not special or different like them, you’re just... you.”

... Sans was never really one for admitting how he felt so this admission left you a little lost for words, eyes widening a bit and lips parting... you were _especially_ lost as to a way to make him feel better. A hand came up around his shoulders and slid over the bone of his skull in almost a stroking motion, the warm, smooth bone pleasant against your fingertips, the best you could do until you could think of something to say.

“it’s like... i’m just one of those tiny packs of gross filler ketchup at the fast food joints pretending like i know what i’m doing, sitting there.” His voice was getting wobblier. “like if i just _believe_ hard enough i’ll be better at covering fries than the amazing, home-grown shit who has everything together...”

... Damn. You pulled him a little closer- for a guy talking about condiments he sure seemed to be getting in deep.

“... Some people prefer fast food ketchup, y’know.” You said, trying to sound supportive.

“... what?” He tilted his skull to look up at you, and you stopped petting, turning your head to the side a little and glancing down into his now very _close_ sockets.

... Why did he suddenly seem like a puppy?

“I mean... just because it’s home-grown doesn’t mean it’s better.” You had to look away, trying to think deeper into the analogy without going too far and sounding like you were trying too hard. “Different people got different tastes, y’know? Sometimes, you just... wanna... stuff your face on some salty sweet crap. Weird expensive odd flavours that home-grown organic might have can ruin it if you’re not in that mood.” There we go. You almost smiled to yourself, glad you managed to explain it without sounding crazy or philosophical. “Ketchup is ketchup. In the end you just want something that’ll do the job- make your fries taste good.”

You turned back to him again, raising your brows.

“Unless the job is to chug it. Like a weirdo.”

... That made him snort, the familiar (and much better) lazy grin coming back, sockets lidding a tiny bit.

It struck you how handsome he could be, with the last rays of the evening sun casting on the ivory of his relaxed face, catching in his sparkling eyelights.

“... thanks.” He said, removing his head from your shoulder and breaking the spell. “i feel a bit better.”

“... Anytime.” You smiled.

\---

When you finally got through the door, Sans close behind and visibly much less tense than when he walked out, all you needed was a nice warm shower to end the day and some rest for tomorrow. It’d been too long since you showered. Skull and Red were in the living room and seemed to be silently tolerating each other just fine, Red absorbed in the TV and Skull staring at a space on the floor in his oddly silent state, so you saw no harm in just going away for a little while. You threw a towel over your arm and some fresh pjs- after the sudden influx of large males appearing in the middle of the night you stopped feeling quite as comfortable sleeping with few items of clothing on.

The bathroom may not have been huge but it wasn’t small at all- in fact, you had enough room to move around quite well. You were pretty sure you were the only one who actually used the bathroom for non-shower related reasons so you never really had to worry about spending too long and stopping someone from going to the toilet.

_Bonus of your roommate being a skeleton._ You thought to yourself, locking the bathroom door and pulling your shirt over your head. _No one ever uses your hair products._

It was taking a little while for the water to warm... You stood with your back against the cold shower cubicle wall, with your hand in the droplets, waiting for the stream to heat up enough. When it was _still_ taking time you glanced at the temperature dial-

\- and noticed it was turned right to the very left, set to the coldest option.

... You sighed, rolling your eyes. Every single time Sans used the shower he left it on cold. You couldn’t figure out if it was some kind of lame running prank to make you wait for the warm, or if, like some kind of _psychopath,_ he genuinely showered cold.

Either way you just turned it to your preferred temperature and showered, finally able to get the sweat off you.

And while you were there, you felt a little tune bubble up behind your lips. You weren’t even quite sure what it was at first, something you’d heard somewhere and your brain decided to mimic for no apparent reason, but eventually you managed to pinpoint it to a movie you’d seen some time ago.

It was nice. You smiled to yourself and sang a bit, glad to finally have a chance to let go, hot water running in little rivets over your body. You felt a little tempted to stick your arm out and let the jet stream outwards like you were aquaman but just decided not to.

These past few days had been stressful, to say the least.

\---

Skull leant against the bathroom door, silent, listening.

He _thought_ he heard a voice over the sound of Red’s incessant TV bingeing. It was you, singing that funny song. He’d never heard it before... Well...

His socket shut a little.

He hadn’t heard many songs. There wasn’t much singing in the Underground.

... There wasn’t _any_ singing in the Underground.

... He shut his sockets completely, lulled in.

... Just... gonna listen for a few more seconds. Not for any important reason. It’d been so long since he heard singing.

So long since he felt a modicum of calm.

...

_this is probably what sirens sound like..._

\---

You got out after a short while, still singing to yourself. Keen to relax, you dressed quickly, and opened the door.

...

Skull staggered a moment, his socket opening in surprise, and you jumped a step back in surprise, almost tripping backwards on the towel on the floor.

Was he... _waiting outside the door?_

...

He looked at you, sweating.

...

“Skull.”

...

“If you needed the bathroom, you should’ve just said.” You chuckled, moving past him. “I would’ve sped up a bit.”

You felt his stare following you as you walked away.

  
  



	7. Taming touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skull makes a discovery about your hair.

_“P-please, Sans, just... just calm down.”_

  
  


_“i’ll do it.” He sobbed._

  
  


_“N-no... think about this.”_

  
  


_“if you won’t kiss me i’ll do it.”_

  
  


_“Just listen, I don’t-” He took a hold of his lower rib in his huge hand, blown red eyelight wide and crazed and staring into your soul. “No, Sans, stop! Stop it, don’t hurt yourself! D-”_

  
  


_There was a short, sharp snapping sound, and a clattering as the bone fell to the floor._

  
  


_His own scream was almost as loud as yours._

  
  


You weren’t sure how you’d ended up in this situation.

  
  


You’d just turned a corner too fast, walking straight into a _very_ large, solid rib cage, your nose bumping harshly on a sternum. You yelped and stumbled back, holding your abused snout with a hand, but your ankle slipped on the floor and almost _almost_ came out from underneath you.

  
  


But whoever it was finally seemed to realise the event happened and reacted, reaching out and catching you, one grabbing ungracefully at your shirt and the other cupping the back of your head.

  
  


... A tiny, struck intake of air.

  
  


Now steady, you groaned, and took your palm away from your nose. No blood.

  
  


... You glanced up at your bumper/saviour of a potential ass bruise.

  
  


...

  
  


Skull’s eyelight widened, jaw slack.

  
  


... The hand on your shirt loosened, but a phalange in your hair pressed a little deeper and ran down the length of it, cautiously, gliding between the locks, sockets opening. Did... did he just shiver?

  
  


He was staring at it like he’d never seen hair before... and having him this _close_ with his hand in your hair (was his expression always so intensely fixated?) reminded you of how _overwhelmingly_ huge he really was to you. His hands were _massive_... palms almost the size of your face, whole hand easily able to cup half your head. He could grab your hair and yank it so hard it pulled out your scalp if he wanted to.

  
  


Your breathing fluttered as you looked up at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  
  


“... what...” His voice was so quiet you barely even heard it, contrasting his wide, wide eyes. He ran three claws through it... then four... then both his hands were coming up and feeling the hair at the back of your head and coming back to the front, almost _petting_ in a cycle. He seemed absolutely _transfixed,_ eyelight dilating wider. “... how... so soft...?”

  
  


He liked its softness?

  
  


It was such an odd feeling, his hands in your hair. You didn’t understand why you were rooted to the spot so firmly, why the tingling sensation it caused was so pleasant... or why you weren’t freaked out and pissed off by someone just petting you like a cat, instead just... staring.

  
  


Skull didn’t even seem to care that the hair was attached to _your_ head, and for some reason, that made it... okay...? It was like he’d completely forgotten everything, just petting over and over, feeling it move between his massive phalanges, staring, _staring._

  
  


It was just... so completely unexpected for someone like him to so freely touch.

  
  


“... plait?”

  
  


“... What?” You blinked, looking up at him, confused.

  
  


His head tilted a little, shadows moving over his face. “can i plait it?”

  
  


_His stare was so intense._

  
  


“... Uh...” You paused a second, glancing at the arm attached to the hand still in your hair. I mean... you had nothing to do. Your boss had gone to see his mom up-country for a little while so you didn’t have work... you’d honestly just been planning to do housework and finally catch up on that laundry that Sans _never_ did, then get the groceries.

  
  


... You glanced to the side. Well, it was still the afternoon, the shops were open until 11pm and the laundry could be done at any time...

  
  


And that eye was just...

  
...

  
  


“... Sure. I guess...?” You said, with a small shrug. His hand was already up to the knuckle in your hair anyway. What could happen?

  
  


And then before you could even properly process it you were being pushed to the sofa on stumbling legs, his insanely quiet footsteps almost inaudible over your own _breathing,_ your butt on the cushions and his legs on either side of you, large weight making you shift slightly backwards toward him in your seat.

  
  


...

  
  


Wait.

  
  


Waaaaait wait wait wait.

  
  


You were sat _between his legs._

  
  


You flushed, and stammered, opening your mouth to say something or protest and putting your hands either side of you, almost on his knee, but his big bony fingers were already back against your scalp, gathering your hair at the back to the best of his abilities. You weren’t even sure if he was going to be able to plait it... and how did he know what a plait _was?_ Sans used to think that a human’s hair length was how long they’d live before you promptly managed to educate him.

  
  


But, before you could push away, the very slight tugging on your scalp that his ministrations caused felt... actually kinda nice. Tingly... in a good way.

  
  


... Your mouth shut, stiffened shoulders... gradually relaxing, allowing you to sit down a bit, getting calmer as he combed... Your hands moved from flat on the sofa cushion (about to push off) to by your thighs. You momentarily wondered how the stray strands weren’t getting caught between the joints of his phalanges.

  
  


... It was so strange, having him so close, his giant, solid bone legs on either side of you, trapping you in. You wanted to turn around and look at him, but you couldn’t... You felt like he could swallow you whole.

  
  


If he wanted to.

  
  


But the position seemed to hold no weird underlying meaning. If you were sat between Sans’s legs it would be some kind of embarrassing silent cuddle session and if you were sat between _Red’s_ legs the sexual tension would be unbearable and his _intentions_ completely noticeable.

  
  


With Skull, it was just... sitting down.

  
  


That made you feel better.

  
  


You also noticed, as he separated tiny sections of your hair into three parts to make little plaits... that his fingers shook.

  
  


It was very slight, almost not noticeable. But in your hair and especially when he was so close to you you could feel every slight tug, every minor pull on the roots.

  
  


... Maybe it was something to do with the crack...?

  
  


Skull was apparently enjoying himself just making little plaits and undoing them again, curling the strands together then picking them apart, feeling it unwind. Almost childli-

  
  


A sudden movement of warm air on the back of your head and a large, flat pressure made you sit up a bit, jumping out of your mini haze. What? What’s that?

  
  


...

  
  


It moved! You tried to turn your head around but it was held still by his huge hands. The pressure rubbed back and forth a few times over the back of your head, another blast of warm air travelling over your skin and making you shudder in your seat. It...

  
  


_Wait._ You blinked, stopping. _That’s... his breath._

  
  


...

  
  


_And if that’s his mouth, the rest is..._

  
  


...

  
  


Skull was _nuzzling the back of your head._

  
  


When you realised it, you felt a little stupid for not recognising it before. Of course, you could feel the small bumps of his closed teeth and jaw, the slight ridge of his nose.

  
  


Your breath caught in your throat. _And not in a bad way._

  
  


“... so _soft...”_ He murmured, in that deep, _deep_ tone, so close to your head, but spoken as if no one was listening.

  
  


...

  
  


“... Skull?” You said, with a slight nervous tinge to your voice.

  
  


“... soft hair.” He repeated, a little louder for you, his own voice making your skin tingle. “... never felt hair so soft.”

  
  


“... Oh.” You felt your face flushing a little. “Thank you. You’re very sweet.”

  
  


“not really.” His mouth came away from the back of your head and he went back to finger combing, gently prying apart any knots he found. It was like your very own private head massage.

  
  


“... What do you mean?” You asked.

  
  


His movements stopped for a moment as he thought... but started up again very quickly. It took him a while to put the right answer together in his head, curling a strand around a phalange and watching it bounce free again a few times over.

  
  


“... if i had a big rope... and a basement... this would’ve...”

  
  


He rumbled, pausing again.

  
  


...

  
  


“... ended _differently.”_

  
  


... Uhm.

  
  


“...H... haha...?” You tried to chuckle, looking to the side, feeling yourself start to sweat a bit. _What the fuck was that supposed to mean!?_

  
  


... He didn’t say any more. In fact, he didn’t even seem to be expecting a reply. He just kept playing with your hair silently, happy.

  
  


...

  
  


_Maybe it was a joke?_ You thought to yourself. _I mean... considering the calibre of the last joke he told, a joke about kidnapping doesn’t seem too far out of line._

  
  


Yeah. That seemed reason enough. You relaxed a bit again, feeling bad for acting awkward. He probably didn’t mean anything by it.

  
  


“... the hell?”

  
  


The gruff, higher tone of voice made you glance up to the doorway, only thing moving being your face, head locked in placed for Skull’s benefit. Red’s brows were drawn together and his lip was twisted over his dagger teeth, eyelights sharp and small.

  
  


... Oh yeah. This must look pretty weird.

  
  


“Skull’s feeling my hair.” You said, when Skull didn’t even look up from what he was doing to acknowledge the smaller skeleton.

  
  


“... how come?” His tone got a little less sharp, and he leant against the door frame, face relaxing a tad. You were glad he didn’t come flying in to remove you, like Sans would’ve.

  
  


“Apparently it’s soft.” You shrugged.

  
  


Red relaxed even more, a weird sort of smile breaking out, smouldering crimson dots giving Skull a once over before they came back to you. You _really_ liked how his gold tooth sparkled in the light. “th’ fuck’d you do to him? he looks like he’s high.”

  
  


High? You shrugged a second time, kinda feeling bad for talking about Skull like he wasn’t sat directly behind you and technically _around_ you a little.

  
  


“... pft. well,” he kicked off the door frame, solid, square frame still unusual to see in the doorway that usually housed your round roommate, “blue balls just wanned ya to know he’s doin’ somethin’ with the power. so if it cuts, don’t get freaked.”

  
  


“Alright. I’ll bare that in mind.” You gave him a quick smile.

  
  


“... an’ hey.” He grinned back, sockets lidding. “if ya get scared when the lights go out, can always come to me for _comfort~...”_

  
  


You threw the nearest pillow at him. He winked, with that stupid sexy chuckle, and vanished before it could hit him.

  
  


_Asshole._ You thought, cheeks reddening anyway.

  
  


“... your heart sped.”

  
  


“... What?” You asked, turning around a bit and looking over your shoulder, having almost forgotten Skull was there. He was looking down at you with his focused eyelight and completely neutral expression, one hand stubbornly holding onto your hair despite you having turned.

  
  


“it sped up.”

  
  


...

  
  


You flushed more.

  
  


“W-well, hearts do that sometimes. They speed up and slow down.”

  
  


He cocked his head to one side in a questioning manner, corner of his socket crinkling a little.

  
  


“... You didn’t know that?”

  
  


... He shook his skull.

  
  


“... Well, look.” You held you palm open to him, shuffling around a little more so you could look face-to-face without craning your neck at such an awkward angle, knee almost touching his. “Gimme your hand?”

  
  


...

  
  


His eyelight rolled from your face, to your hand... and back to your face again. Deliberate. ... Deciding...?

  
  


...

  
  


He put his giant hand in yours very slowly. It could completely swallow it.

  
  


You turned his hand over a bit and placed the palm, where you hoped he had the most sensitivity, over your heart, just on your chest.

  
  


“Just here.”

  
  


...

  
  


For a moment, he looked a little confused, waiting. And then...

  
  


... His eyelight dilated, like a drop of ink falling into water.

  
  


He moved, so fast. He sat up and came forward quicker than you could anticipate, bending over himself, sofa creaking in response. His giant hand moved down to brace your stomach and the other your back, and you squeaked in surprise at him being so close, _what the hell is he doing,_ but-

  
  


... He pressed the non-cracked side of his head against your chest, exactly where you’d shown him the heartbeat was.

  
  


...

  
  


And gasped. A tiny, shocked sound.

  
  


“it’s...” He said, as you blinked multiple times, confused and finding it _immensely_ odd to have his giant head _right on your chest_ like this. Your heart was going much faster now, voice caught in your throat in surprise, and you _knew_ he could hear it.

  
  


But... for some reason, he didn’t feel threatening. Even _this_ close. Just... like he was a giant, curious dog. You could feel his warm breath travelling over your skin, a little going under your shirt. “it’s so... _small...”_

  
  


“... U-uhuh.” Was all you could squeeze out, mouth only a few inches from his shoulder.

  
  


“so small.” He repeated, and you couldn’t see his expression, but something in his voice told you it was a calm one.

  
  


...

  
  


You let him stay like that.

  
  


\---

  
  


“what do you _mean they're_ on the sofa with him!?”

  
  


“blue, untwist yer panties, it’s not-”

  
  


“why didn’t you tell me earlier!?” Sans threw down the wrench he’d been holding, and it bounced on the hard floor, flying back up and smacking onto the wall before it finally fell. But he paid no notice, sockets furiously wide, eyelights minuscule, a worrying buzzing mixture of panic and magic racing through his bones. “why does he keep getting so physically close to them!?”

  
  


“dude.” Red held up his hands, standing in front of the door, mildly impressed at your ability to elicit such a reaction in Blue. If he knew anything about alternate versions of himself, it was that they shared his dislike of emotionally sticking his neck out, and maintaining close personal relationships. “he’s not eatin’ them-”

  
  


“not _yet!”_ Blue snarled, as Red figured maybe mentioning eating you was probably not the best thing to have said. “we don’t know what he’s fucking thinking! move!”

  
  


“y’aint lettin’ me _speak,_ tiny...”

  
  


Blue just bore his teeth in a short, sharp dominant display, and teleported directly through Red’s physical blockade, into the hallway. Red immediately followed, catching up quickly as his double approached the partially ajar living room door, about to grab the handle. “i’m not about to just-”

  
  


_“blue.”_ Red hissed, grabbing him by the hood and yanking him back harshly, so hard it almost sent him falling to the ground. He recovered at the last minute and slapped Red’s hand away, opening his mouth, but Red cut over him. “stop an’ _look.”_

  
  


“at what!?”

  
  


_“them.”_

  
  


...

  
  


Blue bit his tongue and looked through the gap in the door at the scene in front of him.

  
  


You were sat in Skull’s _lap,_ and the freak was bent over you, head pressed against your chest. Sans’s magic instantly fizzled in fury and he prepared to storm in and get you out-

  
  


...

  
  


Wait.

  
  


His sockets widened a fraction, magic momentarily stopping, settling back into his bones.

  
  


Skull’s head was on your chest?

  
  


_Willingly?_

  
  


And... you didn’t seem upset. There were no lines in your face, no quickened breathing, no wild eyes. You seemed... perfectly fine, perfectly calm, just watching Skull with a mix of mild confusion and intrigue. You seemed _okay_ with having that... _thing_ so physically close to you.

  
  


“look.” Red said, again, voice low, and quiet. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, eyelights also cast in your direction. “lookit his face an’ eye. he’s a fuckin’... _drunk puppy_ with 'em right now. _we’re_ in more danger than they are. in fact...” Red pursed his ‘lips’, glancing down at Blue. “the only way they’d be in any danger is if ya stormed in there and startled him.”

  
  


... Sans still didn’t like it, a crease between his brows. He didn’t like the way you were patting Skull’s back, he didn’t like the way you looked so calm and even a little nervous, he didn’t like how giant Skull looked next to you, bent over you like that, he _hated_ how calm Skull seemed with his fucking head against your tiny chest.

  
  


Every drop of magic in his bones was screaming that this was _wrong._

  
  


... He entered the room slowly, making sure to let the door creak.

  
  


\---

  
  


You glanced up to see Sans enter the room (much less panicked than you thought he’d be), his hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyelights barely visible, face pulled into one of what you could only describe as the face one would make if someone was audibly talking shit about them in another room.

  
  


“kiddo.” He said, tight, and you raised a brow. “it-”

  
  


A sudden deep, loud, gratingly rough _growl_ cut over Sans, erupting from Skull’s chest and filling the room, threatening, _alarming._ It shook your whole body and raised every hair on your body like a bristled feline, especially since you were so close to the source, and your eyes flew open. Skull’s hands on your back and front tightened a little over your shirt.

  
  


_Skull made that sound!?_

  
  


Sans seemed just as shocked, if not more, than you were. But once the initial surprise wore off his sockets narrowed and he stood there, _glaring,_ holding his ground.

  
  


...

  
  


... Skull moved his head away from your chest, sitting up, his clothes rustling as he did so... but he kept one hand on your back.

  
  


You did _not_ feel safe anymore. The air was thick with hatred, as the two continued to glare at each other, silent, _challenging,_ Skull’s eyelight rounder and sharper with each passing moment.

  
  


How Sans stood his ground, you had no idea.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Eventually, finally, like a cord cutting, Skull glanced down, breaking contact. That seemed to be all Sans needed to know and he huffed like a mother whose child had finally admitted a fault she knew all along. A ‘that’s what I thought’ kind of sound.

  
  


“... i need a hand with clearing the table.” Sans said, turning back to you, eyelights soft again as if the entire interaction between those two hadn’t just happened. “mind helping?”

  
  


... You looked between the two of them, confused, mouth slightly open as you tried to phrase a question but it just wouldn’t come out. What did you just see? Why did Skull remind you of a dog with its tail between its legs right now? Why did he _growl?_ _What’s going on between them!?_

  
  


... You just... slid off the sofa, out from between Skull’s legs. You looked back at him for a moment, and the two of you held eye contact, but he quickly instead focused down at a sofa cushion. As if...

  
  


...

  
  


“Can’t you just... teleport everything off the table?” You asked, heading over to Sans. He grinned, and shrugged.

  
  


“too lazy.”

  
  


“You’re too lazy to _be_ lazy?”

  
  


“mhm.”

  
  


You rolled your eyes, and groaned.


	8. Shameless flirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Skull and Sans have a little disagreement, Red takes his chance.

_“i don’t care about you. ya got that, ya stupid bitch? i dont give a shit. y’ could go out inta snowdin and get yer soul fuckin’ ripped from your chest an’ i wouldn’t even blink. in fact, the only reason yer still fuckin’ alive is because you’re hot and mouthy an i got a thing for that. so don’t go spoutin’ shit like you know me. don’t..._

  
  


_..._

  
  


_... wait, are you... crying?”_

  
  


You woke up with an odd, faint tugging in your chest, a fizzling smell in your nostrils, and two firm hands on your shoulders shaking you into consciousness. At first, you groaned and tried to ignore it, attempting to roll onto your side to hide your face... you didn’t _have_ work today, you didn’t have it until next week, you were gonna take a leaf out of Sans’s book and sleep until midday, you didn’t _need_ to get up...

  
  


... But the shaking and small mutterings of your name ended up waking you anyway.

  
  


... You opened your eyes, groggy and pissed, and looked up.

  
  


And then promptly screamed.

  
  


Well, tried to- Red slapped a hand over your mouth, shushing loudly between his teeth. He was sat on the edge of your bed, leaning over you, framed by the very slightly opened window behind him, _why was he in your room!?_ The more awake you got the more aware you became of just how _heavy_ the air felt around you... static, _burning..._ like how everything seems to charge when lightning is about to strike.

  
  


“just stay quiet for a sec, okay?!” Red hissed, in a whisper, taking his hand off your mouth. You immediately sat up, pulling the duvet up to your chest defensively, and despite being fully clothed, the small straps of your pyjama top (it was hot this time of year) and bare shoulders made your face flush... hard.

  
  


“H-how did you get in my...!?” You stammered.

  
  


“listen.” He cut over, both his hands up in a surrender-esque signal, as if trying to show that his action just now wasn’t meant to be an attack. ... Was he sweating...? His smile was tight. “blue an’ skull’re fightin’.”

  
  


“... Fighting?” You repeated, lowering the duvet a little.

  
  


“yeah. aaaaand...” He glanced to the door. “i figured you an’ i should go somewhere until it dies down. it’s not something we wanna get in the middle of. trust me.”

  
  


“...” You looked toward the door too. The two of them had certainly seemed hostile toward each other last night... “Is that why the air is so...?” _charged with power._

  
  


“mhm.” He sat back a little, now that you weren’t about to smack him. “we really oughta get goin’, before they...” He trailed off.

  
  


“... Before they what?” You prompted, raising a brow, getting worried. They weren’t going to kill each other, were they...?

  
  


... Red looked at you. Up and down, apparently paying attention to your neck.

  
  


... His grin went a bit tighter. “... before either of ‘em decides to be the first to mark territory.”

  
  


“... M-mark whatnow?” You were just even more confused, flushing at how far down his gaze had gone. “... They’re not gonna start peeing on the walls, are they?”

  
  


...

  
  


That made him snort _loudly,_ breaking out of whatever serious mindset he was in, slapping his hand over his sharp teeth to quickly muffle it. But his shoulders bounced with that gorgeously deep chuckle and all you could do was sit there, embarrassed.

  
  


“W-well I didn’t know what you meant by that!” You said, red-faced, voice a shrill whisper.

  
  


“n-no, th-they ain’t gonna be pissin’ like dogs...” He managed to squeeze out. “e-even though that _would_ be funny as hell.”

  
  


“It would _not.”_

  
  


... His teeth parted a little in an amused sigh, eyelights flicking over to you. His gaze never failed to make your pulse increase.

  
  


“well, either way, we should head out sooner rather than later.” He stood from your bed, indicating he was going to leave for a moment to give you some privacy while you changed.

  
  


“... Okay. Just... never come into my room without knocking again.”

  
  


“dunno.” He winked, grin broadening smugly. “i like ya much better when y’ve got less clothes on...”

  
  


He teleported out of your room with a laugh before the small book you threw at him could make contact.

  
  


\---

  
  


“Much cloudier today.” You observed, looking up at the grey, grey sky in slight worry (it was that heavy, pressing kind of cloud; the kind that felt like it would split in two and rain on you in any second), walking next to your tall companion on a suspiciously empty pavement that was quickly evacuated by anyone standing on it who rounded a corner and saw the two of you. ... Well, when they saw Red.

  
  


You had a similar problem when you walked with Sans, but _nowhere_ near as bad as this. Usually, it was only one or two racists who changed sides or gave you a bad look, and at _worst_ called out slurs about his appearance or monster-ness... but this was pretty heavy and obvious.

  
  


_... Probably because Red’s so... solid._ You thought to yourself, looking up at him. _Sans seems much rounder and friendlier in general- short, nonthreatening, a bit gross at worst- Red’s like a beast. People have avoided us but no one’s dared to say a word yet... can see why._

  
  


“helluva lot of clouds.” He agreed. Ironically, it was much harder to start a conversation now that you had all your clothes on.

  
  


“... So!” You clapped your hands together, making him blink and look down at you. “What’re we gonna do? How long do you think it’ll take them to calm down?”

  
  


“... hm. well, knowin’ m- them, i’d say...” He scratched the side of his skull. “... anywhere between one an’ two hours.”

  
  


_“... Hours?”_ You repeated, brows raising and jaw dropping just a little. What were they arguing about- the entire American constitution!?

  
  


Red shrugged. “they’ll come lookin’ for us when they realise we’re gone. so we gotta just wait for them.”

  
  


... You sighed. Well, given how... you wanted to say ‘stubborn’ but it was more like ‘completely and ridiculously patient’ Sans was as a person, an hour didn’t actually seem that crazy. He was Patient to the point of aggravation sometimes, willing to just sit there and repeat his view until you got his side and agreed with him. Oftentimes views of ‘i don’t need to eat healthily and get a good 8 hours of sleep and go outside, i’m fine’.

  
  


Which led to clashes, given how determined you could be in turn. Sometimes it felt like he really _needed_ someone determined enough to wear his Patience thin. Papyrus often noted, when he came round for visits, that you and him were the only people that could get through to Sans when he closed himself off like that.

  
  


And although you didn’t really know that much about Skull as a person, you had a sneaking feeling he could be like that, but worse.

  
  


“... what about a movie?” Red offered.

  
  


You turned your attention back to your current companion.

  
  


Red didn’t really seem to fall into the same category as the first two. In fact, he didn’t strike you at all like a particularly patient person. No- he seemed like the type to go hunt for what he wanted. Whereas Sans would let it come to him and mope if it didn’t, unwilling to put in effort until absolutely necessary for fear of failure, Red would go after with all guns blazing, whether or not that was a good thing.

  
  


“... Well, depends on the mo-”

  
  


A drop of rain hit you on the nose.

  
  


You stopped, and looked up, surprised- only for another two to get you on the forehead and cheek. The darkest part of the dark cloud was now directly over you, and just ahead in the street, you could see the faint white lines of rain starting to fall.

  
  


“... Oh shit.”

  
  


And then the heavens _opened._

  
  


Before you knew it it was _tipping_ it down- a sudden, unstoppable rush of rain that’d been waiting all those warm summer days to finally fall. You had no idea why it came so abruptly, but... it didn’t matter. Both you and Red shouted in alarm and you immediately started bolting, yelling “Head to the bus stop!” at the top of your lungs and dashing as the cold water started dampening your shoulders and hair worryingly fast.

  
  


You were running, running, but _fuck_ you were too slow. The people still around scattered in different directions, you didn’t even bring a coat despite the _obviously_ grey sky and impending rains, idiot, you put your hands over your head for a little protection, you were gonna get _soaked_ this was _terrible_ you couldn’t run fast enough-

  
  


But before you could even blink your feet went out from under you and Red was carrying you, running far faster than you could with his longer, brisker strides. You had to grip onto his shirt as the movement bounced you up and down but you were eternally grateful for him stepping in and helping you.

  
  


And just like that, before you knew it, he ducked under the bus shelter’s thin plastic roof. The torrent that’d been falling on you became a loud pattering-rushing noise on the ceiling, the sound of Red’s shoes on the soaked tarmac suddenly audible.

  
  


“... yeesh.” He said, sitting down at the metal chairs provided, still carrying you like a princess. “s’it always this torrential?”

  
  


“It’s never usually that sudden.” You replied, tapping his chest to signal you wanted down. He complied, and you sat next to him instead, biting metal cold of the seat enough to be felt through your clothes. “Or... anywhere near as cold in summer.”

  
  


Speaking of cold.

  
  


You were starting to shiver.

  
  


Your damp clothes and wet hair and the cold metal bus stop seat, topped with your totally inadequate clothing for this kind of weather meant you were really starting to feel the consequences of not bringing a coat.

  
  


So you just held your upper arms and bounced your leg, looking out at the street, and the rains coming down. A car drove by, sending up a splash, taillights casting an aura of red, but luckily the bus stop was too far away from the road. It washed up harmlessly on the pavement, and the car continued.

  
  


“... Red?” You said, tone soft.

  
  


“hm?”

  
  


You turned to him, eyebrows raised and eyes narrowed. “You’re not subtle.”

  
  


Chuckling, he removed the hand he’d surreptitiously put on your opposite shoulder, but kept his arm across the back of the chair. “aight, got me, got me.”

  
  


“... Hey.” You just wanted to fill the silence. “What do you c-call two straight days of rain in Seattle?”

  
  


He apparently knew this one, because the corners of his shark smile lifted a tiny bit, usual glinting tooth dulled in the grey light of the rain, but he humoured you. “what?”

  
  


“A weekend.”

  
  


That earned you a silky chuckle, enough to make you grin a little.

  
  


...

  
  


“hey.”

  
  


“Hm?” You thought he was going to tell you a joke, but instead, he... started taking off his jacket. Underneath was a red turtleneck sweater (why was he wearing a sweater under a hoodie in summer...?) that showed off his physique not quite as effectively as the top you’d seen earlier.

  
  


You blinked, sitting up a little straighter, first thinking that he was seriously going to take all his clothes off right there at the bus stop as some kind of prank or weird _seduction attempt,_ but instead, he... just removed it, turned to you, and placed the large, black, fluff-trim garment over your own shoulders with a soft ‘pwf’.

  
  


... Awe.

  
  


You put your arms through the massive holes and zipped it up as best you could with being almost unable to see due to the fur of the hood blocking your view. It was so warm... and it smelled vaguely of a crackling bonfire. You actually pressed your face into it a little.

  
  


When you turned to look at him, you could’ve sworn for a second that his smile was gone. And it might’ve been the taillights of another car going by but his cheekbones were lit up with a very slight crimson glow.

  
  


“... That’s very sweet of you.” You said, smiling.

  
  


“... h-heh. well, uh, y’know,” he stammered, own grin returning, albeit... with a bit of force...? And yeah, it must’ve been a taillight, because the cheekbone glow was already gone. “wouldn’t want ya t’ freeze yer tits off before i get a good long look at ‘em.”

  
  


You smacked him over the back of the skull.

  
  


... Which just dissolved into the two of you laughing together, as the rain came down around you.

  
  


\---

  
  


All Red could do as you pushed your tiny little cute face into the fabric of his hoodie to take a little breath in was blink, cocky smile falling as his mind ground to a halt, and stare like a fool, magic rushing to his cheekbones and mouth.

  
  


You turned to him, practically glowing, wearing his jacket, cheeks and nose a little red from the cold rain and hair slightly fuzzed up from the fur of the hood...

  
  


“... That’s very sweet of you.” You said.

  
  


He opened his mouth, and-

  
  


His mind tripped.

  
  


His mind _never_ tripped. Not even in the most dire of situations. That’s the thing about the Underground- you can’t trip. He’d _never_ got mentally caught out like this- no, he wasn’t _flustered,_ he was just... his mouth was open and another split second passed of him staring and just... _fuck, who made that fuckin’ adorable face legal? say something say something say something-_

  
  


“... h-heh. well, uh, y’know,” he stammered, bringing up what he hoped was a confident grin and pulling the magic out of his face so fast he felt dizzy to cover up the blush. “wouldn’t want ya t’ freeze yer tits off before i get a good long look at ‘em.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Freeze your tits off.

  
  


He momentarily wanted to jump into the road.

  
  


_what the fuck why did i say that, what kind of moron- ‘freeze your tits off’!?_ His brain screamed at him, even as he smiled and bounced his brows. _hah yeah nice going idiot, what the fuck were you thinking?? you stupid fucking-! you get a chance to be alone with them and you use a word like_ **tits!?** _they're gonna think you’re SO damn-_

  
  


You smacked his skull lightly and _oh thank god, they're not mad. they laughed._

  
  


_okay, nevermind._

  
  


But all he could wonder, as he joined in your laugh, was what the hell just happened to him.

  
  


And why the hell he froze.

  
  


\---

  
  


“uh, y’know.” Red said, voice genial, but maybe a little nervous, sockets pulling at the corners. You paused, smile falling a little at his change of tone. “if... if ya ever get tired of blue an’ skull, y’ can always talk to me, an’ we can go do somethin’.”

  
  


He looked away, out at the road, sighing.

  
  


“... i’ll never have a problem with that.”

  
  


...

  
  


Wow. Red was actually super sweet...? “Thanks.” You gave him a little shoulder bump. “I’ll hold that against you.”

  
  


“... eheh.” He winked at you, smouldering eyelights flaring a tiny bit. “darlin... you can hold _anything_ against me.”

  
Okay scratch that. “Eugh. Right.” You rolled your eyes. “Changed my mind.”

  
  


He laughed, and you joined in again, finding yourself... leaning on him. Just a little.

  
  


... This was nice. Warm, listening to the rain, watching it fall all around you, safe in your tiny little bus stop cover. It was sure to clear up, but...

  
  


... Well. You turned your head a little, lying it on the soft fabric of Red’s turtleneck sleeve.

  
  


You wouldn’t really mind if it didn’t.

  
  


“... uhm.” Red cleared his throat.

  
  


You made a small sound of acknowledgement in the back of your throat, not taking your eyes off the rushing water just a few feet ahead of you, the way it rippled on the mirror surface of the pavement, how a traffic light just ahead cast a large green glittering aura all across the road.

  
  


“... so, skull got to feel your hair earlier, right?” He continued.

  
“Mhm?” You really liked the bonfire smell... Your eyelids felt heavy.

  
  


“... can... can i? just like, a lil’ touch.”

  
  


... You shuffled a little to look up at him. He seemed... mm, he seemed a little apprehensive.

  
  


“... Sure.” You mumbled, moving your head back into position on his arm and shutting your eyes. “Don’t see why not.”

  
  


The arm you were leaning on moved a little as his forearm moved to the other side of your head to cautiously take a lock.

  
  


...

  
  


“... woah.” He breathed, sharp fingers moving it around. You had to try not to giggle. “... i-it’s like... silky, but flexible, an’ soft...”

  
  


You definitely liked how his voice sounded so close.

  
  


“Why do you guys like hair so much?” You asked, eyes still shut. “Blue had the same reaction. Even asked if he could borrow a strand to look at under his microscope.”

  
  


You’d laughed at him for that a little and been treated to one of your first views of his flushed blue face- he said ‘borrow’ like he was going to give it back later.

  
  


“... i think...” Red purred, curling the lock over his knuckles. “skeletons just got a thing for hair. an’ skin. we’re all bones, y’know? no softness.”

  
  


“Skull listened to my heartbeat too. Wanna try?” You asked, opening your eyes.

  
  


“... i can?” He tilted his head, teeth parting a little.

  
  


“Sure.” You sat up, unzipping his hoodie and moving it a little, holding out your hand for his. “But if you get too handsy you’re a dead man.”

  
  


... He grinned, a grin that made your chest tighten and eyes widen a little, the previous sleepiness you’d had leaning on his shoulder vanishing into thin air.

  
“oh, _sweetheart,”_ He growled, lowly. “i’d _never.”_

  
  


Gjhjfejrhhshdhhafhfkjrgbfd

  
  


Y-you just... did your best to take his suddenly very warm and large hand and place it over your heart.

  
  


...Much like Skull, there was a small pause, where Red seemed to not be able to feel anything... but then (in much less time it took Skull to) he gasped, shuffling in his seat to lean closer, pressing his hand harder against your chest. But unlike your larger friend he didn’t press his head against it, and there was something far less... _innocent_ about his presence.

  
  


Skull, you could sit between his legs and relax. But... Red...

  
  


You swallowed a little, becoming more and more aware of his proximity, his smell, his body heat... Red now had one hand around the back of the seat, another against your chest, and was leaned in so close you were at perfect eye-level with his teeth and if you just leant forward a bit you could press your forehead on his jaw. You were so close you could see tiny scratches on the bottom of each fang, where he perhaps bit a little too hard on something, and the point wore down.

  
  


“...can’t believe...” You lit up like the traffic lights just feet ahead of you. His _voice..._ “... somethin’ this small an _fragile_ is keepin’ you alive...”

  
  


“M-mhm...” Was all you could push out. Your heart was slamming against your ribs... Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck...

  
  


He was _so close..._

  
  


...

  
  


... And... suddenly he leant away.

  
  


His hand came off your chest and his sharp, sharp teeth away from your face. The encompassing, deer-in-the-headlights feeling that came with his presence was gone in a snap, so quickly it left you feeling a bit... dizzy?

  
  


He just settled into his seat normally, looking out at the street, humming thoughtfully to himself.

  
  


... You couldn’t even think, for a second, cheeks still almost as red as his magic.

  
  


You opened your mouth, but closed it again with a soft ‘clack’ as your mind began to catch up, blinking several times. He seemed very pleased with himself, grin broad, eyelights fuzzy.

  
  


“so.” He said, crossing one leg over the other. “rain’s stopping. how about that movie?”

  
  


\---

  
  


What’s the point of going to a movie if you can’t even concentrate on what’s happening?

  
  


I mean, it wasn’t a very... _good_ movie. One of those mini-company ones released just in time to be overshadowed by a larger company’s most recent release, and for a good reason. Honestly, you hadn’t even known this small romance even _existed_ until it’d popped up in the options and Red said the two of you should just give it a shot.

  
  


“might be good.” He’d said, shrugging.

  
  


You should’ve _known_ something wasn’t quite right when Red decided the two of you should choose the back row. You’d just assumed that... y’know, maybe he was a bit nervous? Or he didn’t want to scare other people taking seats further forward? Maybe he’d had experience having things thrown at his head in the theatre? You’d seen it happen once before- you and Sans had watched helplessly as the whole cinema broke into a fight when someone a row behind lobbed their entire box of popcorn at a fish woman. Sans’d noticeably pulled his hood up as soon as the angry racist was removed from the room.

  
  


So you settled in the back corner, a wall on one side and Red on the other, a bag of M&Ms in hand (the only thing you dared to waste money on) that was already a quarter empty by the time the adverts were over.

  
  


For the most part, the movie was ok. A classic ‘she loves him but he’s too _damaged_ and _dangerous_ angst angst’ scenario. It left you wanting to yell at the poor woman to just take her affection somewhere else every time they interacted- you were more interested in the dynamic between her and her best friend, honestly.

  
  


“why’d you look so pissed?” Red asked, leaning over to you, quiet, almost snickering. You’d taken off his hoodie once you’d entered the hot, dark room, and he’d taken it back.

  
  


“He’s _clearly_ toxic.” You grumbled, gesturing at the screen. “Look at that- he’s just being mean to her and using his ‘tragic past’ as an excuse. It’s not her _job_ to ‘fix’ him, it’s such a bad message. He needs to put the effort in too if he really wants to be with her.”

  
  


“bad movie, bad plot.” He sighed, stealing some M&Ms from the packet, yawning, arm going over the back of the-

  
  


...

  
  


Wait a minute.

  
  


You paused, an M&M almost at your lips.

  
  


Here you were, at the very back of the cinema, in the very corner. Wall on one side, Red conveniently on the other. Not a very good movie that you didn’t need to concentrate on.

  
  


...

  
  


Red had set this up.

  
  


And when you turned to look at him and confront him about that, he was already turned to you, brows high, eyelights spooky in the dark of the cinema.

  
  


...

  
  


You flushed.

  
  


“figured me out again?” He purred, phalange starting to trace small circles on your opposite shoulder. “damn. guess you’re right. i really ain’t subtle. losin’ my touch.”

  
  


“Did you seriously spend real money on a bad movie so you could do the yawn-and-stretch?” You whispered.

  
  


“not _just_ the yawn-and-stretch...”

  
  


“Oh?” You tilted your head, coquettishly, voice still quiet. Probably shouldn’t be encouraging him, but... “What else?”

  
  


“well...” His phalange traced up your shoulder, closer to your neck. You had to hold eye contact with him to stop yourself from bringing your shoulder up- you were ticklish there. “... couple ‘a pickup lines, maybe a hand on yer thigh if you were into it... enough to make ya do that cute lil’ blush you do when you think i haven’t noticed.”

  
  


... O-oh.

  
  


You swallowed, not expecting that, but maintaining your aura of pure, simple curiosity. _He_ did _see!_

  
  


“yeah.” He grinned... a dangerous, hungry grin. His free hand very slowly came up, and his thumb traced along your cheek, the contact sending sparks all over your skin as you struggled to stop your heart from escaping- you could hear it in your ears, pounding away. You were almost certain he could hear it too. _“that_ one. see, the thing is...”

  
  


He leant right in close again, to whisper, low rumble practically shaking you, as you momentarily tried to guess whether or not he was going to bite your ear, breath hot on your sensitive skin. “i know you ain’t into _bedroom activities_ right now, but...”

  
  


_Yep he just nipped your ear._

  
  


“i don’t mind being led on a little.”

  
  


And-

  
  


... He popped an M&M in your mouth, winked and suddenly backed off completely AGAIN, leaving you just staring with wide eyes, a completely tomato face, and a red M&M just sitting there between your lax lips.

  
  


“movie’s over.” He winked.

  
  


... You looked at the screen, to see the credits rolling by.

  
  


...

  
  


Wait.

  
  


When did that happen?


	9. He trusts you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movies bring people together.

_where am i?_

  
  


_where’s papyrus? where’s asgore? why does everyone look so..._

  
  


_... what’s going on?!_

  
  


Skull and Sans went looking for you the moment they both cooled down enough to notice the suspicious lack of Red.

  
  


And they were _not_ happy when they found you.

  
  


Red was in the process of taking you to the park after leaving the cinema, your cheeks still a little pink from his relentless teasing and the M&M incident, when Sans appeared in the middle of the path and grabbed your shoulders so suddenly you actually leapt into the air and shrieked. Skull was close behind, rounding a corner and walking over, jaw set hard.

  
  


“what happened?” Sans fussed, tilting your head in his hands, as if checking you for bruises or marks, as all you could do was stand there with wide eyes. “where did you go? did he _do_ anything? what about that rain shower earlier? did you take a coa-”

  
  


“Woah, woah!” You took a step back, out of his Mom aura, holding up your hands as if he were a wild beast you were trying to push back, blinking in confusion. “I’m fine! Slow down!”

  
  


But before you could say anything else he pulled you back, and... down? The side of your face pressed against his chest, back bending a little as he held you there, both arms wrapping around your head and neck. You could _feel_ the daggers he was glaring at Red over you.

  
  


“i can’t believe you just left with them without saying anything!” He practically squawked. You felt like this was, perhaps, what baby chicks felt like when a hen sat on them. “do you have _any idea_ how worried i was when i realised you were both gone?!”

  
  


“relax, papa smurf.” Red snorted at your position. “besides- how long did it take you to notice, when you were bickerin’ with the big guy?”

  
  


... Sans had no response to that. You tapped on his chest a few times, and he let you go.

  
  


“... It’s fine.” You said, leaning a little to catch his eyelights, trying to make him feel less worried about you having spent so much time alone with Red. I mean... given the sharp-toothed skeleton’s behaviour over the course of the day... you couldn’t really blame your roommate for being a bit worried. Better to not tell him what happened. “We just watched a movie.”

  
  


“... you guys watched a _movie?”_ Sans said, brows going up, clearly even more irked by this.

  
  


“Well, if you’re _that_ upset about being left out, we can all just watch a movie together at home when we get back, right?” You offered.

  
  


...

  
  


Sans... actually brightened up at that.

  
  


“wait, really?” Phew... you felt yourself relax a little now that he seemed less angry. “you sure?”

  
  


“Yeah, it’s no problem.” You shrugged. “Wasn’t a good movie anyway, don’t see a problem with watching another. There’s some good ones on Netflix, right?”

  
  


“... yeah.” Sans said. “i’m down for that. red?”

  
  


Red shrugged, but his grin was impossible to miss. “don’t mind.”

  
  


“Skull?” You asked, turning to your largest skeleton friend. He was a quiet person, perhaps movies were more his thing?

  
  


...

  
  


He just nodded, still retaining that strange, set-jaw look.

  
  


\---

  
  


And that’s what led you to now.

  
  


Since this was an official movie night with friends and not just a random trip out to see a garbage film as an excuse to get you flustered, you were pulling out _all_ the stops. You made everyone wait so you could make popcorn and cheesy nachos, which Skull quietly helped you with. You were actually _really_ _excited..._ you couldn’t even remember the last time you did a movie night. Sans had been your only friend for quite a while, really... and hanging out with him tended to just be relaxing in his room, playing video games or napping.

  
  


But here you were- about to have a movie night. And it felt _awesome._

  
  


There was only really room for three altogether on the small sofa, a fact which quickly became apparent when Skull took a seat, holding the bowl of cheesy nachos. Two pairs of eyelights turned to you, two white and two red, and then _instantly_ to each other, in almost perfect sync, a challenge rising in the air before either of them opened their mouth or even had a chance to call dibs.

  
  


You quickly butted in, before anything could be said, grabbing a large pillow and tucking it under one arm, pushing the bowl of popcorn into Red’s hands. “I’m taking the floor. You three can share the couch.”

  
  


... No one seemed happy with this arrangement, but it’d have to do. You were _not_ going to be having any fights at this time of night, or make anyone sit by themselves on the floor when clearly there was going to be competition over who got to be next to you.

  
  


You settled into your little mound of pillows on the floor, back against the bottom of the sofa, probably between Sans’s legs a little, unreasonably happy.

  
  


“So.” You pursed your lips. “What’re we watching?”

  
  


“hmm...” Sans flicked through the options, apparently enjoying being the one who had you nearby after all. He paused for a second... and then the selection box skipped over to the ‘horror’ category. “well. halloween is real soon, right? something spooky.”

  
  


“Uh oh.” You pulled your knees up. “Well, it better be something with good reviews, then. I can’t do another trashy movie, _Red.”_

  
  


Red’s sultry chuckle was your only reply. Good thing you were turned away from them- you didn’t want any of them to notice your blush.

  
  


“... Did you guys celebrate Halloween? Underground? If you don’t mind my asking.” You asked, eventually turning a little after all to look up at the three of them.

  
  


“well, we did.” Sans said, shrugging. “hallowe’en was more of a new home term clocked from human magazines and newspapers that fell through, but we tended to call it samhain. it was a lot more traditional than what you humans have. more about remembering the dead, less about egging people and getting diabetes.”

  
  


“y’all egg people on hallowe’en?” Red sat up, suddenly perked.

  
  


“No-” You pointed at him, sitting up too. “No, we don’t. Stop that train of thought.”

  
  


He grumbled, and slouched back down again.

  
  


Sans snickered to himself and selected the movie he was hovering over- it had five stars, plenty of good reviews, and a decent looking premise. You were already excited, snuggling further into your little pillow pile with another on your lap, ready and raring. The lights were out, the curtains were shut, the doors and windows were locked, the movie was starting, and you had your three buddies with you.

  
  


Perfect.

  
  


...

  
  


It was terrifying.

  
  


You _seriously_ underestimated how far your scary tolerance had fallen after your break from really having any time to watch them.

  
  


This movie... it just seemed to hit _every single scare._ Anything that could’ve frightened you did. The atmosphere was perfect, the timing perfect, the characters not so horrendously stupid that it pulled you out of the experience... this was what every trashy scary flick aspired to be.

  
  


...

  
  


You were holding onto your knees through nearly all of it, backed up to the sofa as much as you could, too nervous and caught up to even ask for any of the food, face lit up by the bright light of the screen. By the quiet crunching sounds behind you, Skull and Red were polishing off everything you’d made- a fact that you would’ve been proud of had you not been so busy with your nervous heart who was just about ready to jump out of your chest and bail this movie altogether.

  
  


You could _not_ do this without probably screaming at some point.

  
  


...

  
  


Eventually, somewhere around the middle, you sighed shakily to yourself and decided to get up and find a proper chair. As comfortable as your little pillow hideout was, your butt hurt and was kinda numb from being on the floor for so long.

  
  


You shuffled a little, to the side of the sofa so as not to interrupt the boys’s view, and stood, hea-

  
  


_A jump scare._

  
  


You _shrieked._

  
  


Fight/flight (definitely flight) instincts kicking in like an asshole, you stumbled back. Your legs hit the side of the sofa, but your upper body did not, swinging you like a seesaw, or teeter-totter.

  
  


You fell.

  
  


Backwards, directly onto Sans, Red and Skull, all of whom startled and tried to catch you at once in a flurry of movement and minor panic. You landed harshly onto solid bone, a hand grabbing your calf, two arms wrapping around you under your shoulders and lifting you slightly.

  
  


... Silence.

  
  


Your legs were splayed across Red’s, one sticking up at a funny angle, butt firmly on Skull’s thigh (femur?), back and head on Sans, who had tried to grab you in such a way that left you looking like a cat that was being held at arm’s length by the middle, it’s shoulders up and arms sticking straight out.

  
  


...

  
  


You all burst into laughter, movie suddenly unheeded. Even Skull seemed to make a noise resembling a small, single-breath chuckle.

  
  


“well.” Sans said, releasing you from your hold but not pushing you off his lap, grin wide and genuine. “i think that solved our little seating problem.”

  
  


“... Mmmmhm.” You agreed. ...It was actually really nice being sat across them like this. You didn’t feel quite as out in the open when you were literally laid across three very large, comforting presences. You let out a little breath, turning your head and continuing to watch the movie, suddenly not as scared anymore.

  
  


... It was nice.

  
  


And, I mean... no one complained or shoved or groped you.

  
  


...

  
  


Well.

  
  


Neither you nor Red thought it necessary to mention the hand still very lightly massaging your calf.

  
  


\---

  
  


...

  
  


Ugh... that movie.

  
  


You sat up in bed, in the dark, curtains shut and electric alarm clock glowing faintly, rubbing your eyes. You’d had another dream with the strange tugging sensation in your chest... like something far away was pulling at your core.

  
  


You laid in bed again while staring up at the ceiling that seemed to buzz and move in the black, but you couldn’t get back to sleep. That jump scare had actually genuinely shaken you, and every time you thought back to it, it got your pulse racing a bit. At least the movie’s ending was satisfying.

  
  


... You sighed. Maybe you just... needed to get a drink.

  
  


You pulled back the covers and opened your door as quietly as you could, so as not to disturb the boys. It was so gloomy... and a very gentle chill was in the air, brushing your bare arms and neck. You moved through the blackness, making sure to dodge that one really loud floorboard right under the carpet in the middle of the hallway floor, instead stepping over, and pushing the living room door open, to-

  
  


... someone was on the sofa. Someone _large._ Staring directly ahead of them, at the blank, empty, off TV screen.

  
  


You stopped, intending to turn back, feeling like you just walked in on a moment of incredible privacy, but it was too late- you couldn’t help it...

  
  


“... Skull?” You asked, voice ringing out in the dark.

  
  


...

  
  


He turned, looking over his shoulder at you, staring with that same, almost familiar stare. His face was completely blank, unreadable, smile low, eyesockets round and featureless.

  
  


... And...

  
  


... A large tear rolled down his cheekbone, from his socket, lit up gently by the red glow of his iris.

  
  


...

  
  


Your feet carried you quietly across the room before you could even stop them, light, the slightest bit cautious. He watched you approach...

  
  


... And sit next to him softly, knee almost touching his.

  
  


You knew that if he was anything like Sans, right now, he... just needed someone nearby.

  
  


...

  
  


His shoulders relaxed when you didn’t move again. He shut his working socket, and another two large tears slipped free, trailing down his face and dripping off his jaw onto his lap. In the dead silence of the early, early morning, the sound of the droplets hitting the fabric was perfectly clear.

  
  


...

  
  


Carefully, so as not to spook him, you placed your tiny hand over the back of his large one he had on his knee, giving it a squeeze and keeping your eyes down. Your hand was so small, just barely bigger than the palm... it looked like a child holding their father’s.

  
  


... When you glanced back up at him, he was watching you with a much more focused expression.

  
  


... His hand rolled over and he slid his huge fingers between yours, gaze never once leaving you.

  
  


Now that the two of you were genuinely touching, close enough to be shoulder-to-shoulder, you had to crane your neck more, and he had to tilt his skull that much further down to see you. His smile was completely gone, iris zoned in as he searched for something in your own eyes, the dim rusty red the only source of light in the whole room.

  
  


He searched.

  
  


And searched.

  
  


...

  
  


... And when he didn’t find it, his body turned, like a boulder shifting, and the hand that wasn’t holding yours came across his body to wrap around you, over your waist and back. You froze, but he pulled you into him, his casual strength meaning that he ended up moving you straight into his lap, your chest on his.

  
  


The non-cracked side of his head moved to rest against your hair again. You could feel his silent tears dripping onto your bare shoulder skin, feel the gentle shaking of the massive hand on your side, feel the rise and fall of his vast rib cage.

  
  


... A hug.

  
  


After your brain caught up, you didn’t hesitate to softly mirror the gesture, wrapping your own free arm around him as best you could, pressing your face into his shoulder.

  
  


For a short moment you almost felt like you _should_ feel threatened, as you sat there on his lap in total darkness and quiet... given how broad he was, and how his giant arm was wrapped around your back so securely... but you just... _couldn’t._

  
  


Not here, not now.

  
  


Not while he was so alone.

  
  


...

  
  


He was... really warm.

  
  


... A little sigh left your mouth, and you closed your eyes for just a moment.

  
  


... With your head against his chest, you could hear something thrumming quietly within, like... a hummingbird in a cage. You furrowed your brow a little, as you listened to it buzz so quietly. He smelled like ice melt streams; crisp, so cold it leaves a faint sting in your nostrils. And the iron smell that you’d earlier subconsciously equated to blood now seemed more like... metal, perhaps... a hearth of iron. Unmoving and unwavering.

  
  


... You just sat with him, like that, for a while, eyes closed. He seemed happy to just hold you, and you were happy to be just be held, your whole body rising and falling with each movement of his chest.

  
  


It felt like a rare, rare moment.

  
  


...

  
  


After a little while, you started to think he might’ve fallen asleep holding onto you... his breathing was much longer and more even, and the tears had stopped.

  
  


But then, gently, he shifted and let go, hand becoming lax on your side. You got the message, moving off his lap to instead sit next to him- his eyesocket was shut now, and despite no longer wanting to hug, he didn’t stop you from leaning on his arm.

  
  


...

  
  


And neither did he let go of your oh-so-little hand.

  
  


_I was right._ You thought to yourself. _He’s not dangerous. He just needs someone nearby._

  
  


Some time passed... just sitting there with him, listening to the sounds his skeletal body made. You weren’t sure how long, and neither of you seemed to mind. For a little while you even tried to match his breathing, but the deep, _really goddamn slow_ rise and fall left you slightly dizzy and hyperventilated, so you just stuck to your own natural rhythm.

  
  


...

  
  


A question begin to smoulder in your brain.

  
  


You screwed your eyes shut tighter and turned your face closer into the fabric of his hoodie in an attempt to ignore it, this question being very familiar to you by now. It wasn’t something you could just blurt out or casually slip into a conversation.

  
  


... But, well...

  
  


... Here you were.

  
  


Leaning on him in a private situation, just the two of you. He’d already established a few moments earlier he felt comfortable right now.

  
  


... You took a small breath, turning to look up at him. This was a better time than ever to ask.

  
  


“... Skull?” You asked, voice still quiet.

  
  


The closed socket shifted very slightly, cranking open a little, the thick red glow that spilled out from underneath moving to settle in your direction.

  
  


“... How...” ... Don’t look at it. You forced yourself to keep eye contact. “... How did you get that head injury?”

  
  


You weren’t expecting a reply. In fact, the moment the question left your mouth and you saw his socket open further, you had to look away, a rush of guilt causing your stomach to twist a bit. You rubbed the back of your neck- of _course_ he’d have trauma attached to it, you idiot, what were you thinking just asking him something like that when he’s _finally_ relaxed? You-

  
  


“old friend tried to kill me.”

  
  


His deep (and somewhat bitter...?) tone broke you out of your reverie and you turned to look back at him. He, unlike you, was maintaining strong eye contact.

  
  


“... she...” You gave him a moment as he searched for the right words, staring the whole time. “... she... needed... ... power.”

  
  


... Ah.

  
  


You inferred that this ‘old friend’ of his probably was trying to use his Soul for something.

  
  


Now that the two of you were staring face-to-face again, you allowed yourself to take a much longer study of his features without feeling guilty about it. While he indulged whatever desire he had to just look at you, unbrokenly, for long periods of time, you examined his giant eyelight with such a tiny prick of black in the middle, his sharper teeth curled into a low smile, the empty, dead socket on the left that seemed to suck in your soul.

  
  


And... now that you looked closer at his lit up socket... there were small chip marks in the corner. Like someone had scratched at it. That seemed painful... you almost cringed, wondering if he got attacked by something. Of all the places to get hurt... _right_ in the working eye. If they’d gone a bit higher they could’ve gotten him blind in _both_ eyes.

  
  


... Naturally, your line of sight moved up to the crack on his skull. Gaping, jagged, just...

  
  


... But you came back down again to make eye contact. It didn’t seem right to goggle at his injury while he was right-

  
  


“... s’ok.” He rumbled. “here.”

  
  


He moved, shuffling in his seat, leaning down again until his head was at your eye level, own iris training on his lap. The action made you move back a bit to give him some space- what was he doing? Was he about to get up? Did he drop something?

  
  


... But you soon realised, with a little blink, as you took in his posture and position, that he was...

  
  


Offering you the cracked side of his skull.

  
  


... Giving you an opportunity to look at it unhindered.

  
  


... To _touch_ it.

  
  


... Your hand came up, only a few inches, and... retreated again, nervously. You tried to get a read on his expression- socket lidded, iris not on you, smile flat and plain, no creases, no marks, no telltale giveaway signs... you swallowed.

  
  


“... A-are you sure?” You asked, small, unsure.

  
  


“... s’fine.” He mumbled, socket closing fully. “it’s just us.”

  
  


...

  
  


You could hear your heart in the silence, feel the faint beat of blood in your veins as your hand came up again. He was suddenly so large again... your hand could barely cover his jaw... your fist could fit _into_ that hole. Without question... If you pushed it in and looked him in the eyes would you see your hand in his sockets?

  
  


... You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. He seemed... pacified.

  
  


...

  
  


One last tiny breath, and your finger very delicately made contact with strangely smooth, warm bone, just above his zygomatic arch. Not yet at his crack. You checked his face again, eyes darting over his features, for any twitch, any jolt, any signal that he was uncomfortable or wanted you off.

  
  


... Nothing. His sockets were shut.

  
  


...

  
  


... Itching, niggling human curiosity started to push your hand impatiently, finger creeping further as your confidence grew, but you refused to look anywhere other than where your finger was right now. Up, past the zygomatic arch, closer (What was this part? The squamosal structure...?)... you noted to yourself in the back of your mind that the nearer you got to the crack, the warmer the bone felt. Over the temporal bone, closer... the ivory was so smooth and hard. Littered with almost invisible marks.

  
  


... Just entering the area of the parietal bone, your eyes landed on the gaping wound. How could something so thick and unbreakable crack off like a used eggshell? It was so dark inside, unnaturally so. It seemed so _vicious._ You worried that even _looking_ at those fragmented edges for too long would cut you.

  
  


... You checked Skull’s face.

  
  


Nothing.

  
  


...

  
  


You took the leap.

  
  


Your digits traced the line of the crack, where white met void. For a moment you thought you heard Skull’s breathing shift but you were too focused on how, right here, at the tip, the dropping off point, your hand _buzzed_ with energy that was leaking out, like a very faint, constant electric shock. It moved up your arm, tingly, numbing, leaking out constantly. Your hand seemed so oddly colourful against the stark contrast.

  
  


And now, one exciting, pulse-racing thought was present.

  
  


_He’s letting me touch his head crack. He’s letting me..._

  
  


... You checked Skull’s face. And just there, for a split second, you saw a crease between his brows.

  
  


He was uncomfortable.

  
  


Immediately, without hesitation, you ignored your unsatiated curiosity and desire to just slip your fingers that millimeter further into the abyss, and withdrew your touch back to the lower parietal- near where his ears would’ve been, had he had them. The almost painful buzz vanished, replaced with that preferable gentle warmth.

  
  


...

  
  


Overcome with a strange feeling, you pressed your hand over the back of his skull, and petted, letting your palm glide over the bone, before coming up and repeating the action.

  
  


...

  
  


The movement was minuscule- it would’ve completely escaped your notice if you hadn’t been looking for it. But the crease between his brows disappeared, and his jaw relaxed away from the rest of his face by less than an inch.

  
  


Faintly, in the distance, you heard a siren.

  
  


You continued to pet, in the quiet and dark, sufficiently warmed up by being so close to Skull, content where you were. It was... akin to sitting next to what you originally thought was a giant, clawed, toothed bear, who in the end turned out to actually just be a massive (kinda lonely) dog.

  
  


... He turned back to you, eventually, socket opening again and the now wide, round and fuzzy eyelight shifting over to you. Your petting paused- and you realised you had your hand at the back of his skull, effectively cupping it.

  
  


... _Was his eyelight always that big?_

  
  


You knew it moved. It shrank a little when he got tense...

  
  


...

  
  


He was so close.

  
  


You hadn’t realised. Apparently, neither had he. Just inches apart, you staring up into his softly glowing iris, the red glow more and more familiar as time went by.

  
  


...

  
  


So close...

  
  


...

  
  


A car drove by, outside, and the headlights bled through the curtains, casting over the floor and shifting the shadows in the room around you like you were sitting in the middle of a box that’d been spun like a carousel. As if a whole day flitted by in an instant.

  
  


... Both of you were awoken out of your little dark world... Just as the hand cupping his head came back to your side, Skull let go of your other one.

  
  


You hadn’t even noticed he’d grabbed it.

  
  


“i-i should... bed.” He stammered, soft.

  
  


“... Yeah.” Your own voice was just as soft. “Me too.”

  
  


...

  
  


After that, you slept soundly.


	10. Get Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only you could make them all...get along.

_every day, they get further away from me. and every day, i'm too much of a chicken shit to try and pull them back._

  
  


It’d barely been a month and you were already sick of this.

  
  


Every day.

  
  


Every. Single. Day. You would come home... and _somebody_ would’ve fought over something.

  
  


They never made the mistake of being loud anymore, no- so at least you had _something_ to be glad about. But without fail, you’d walk in the door and someone would be obviously pissed off, or be suspiciously cradling a limb, or had their hood pulled up over their head like you were some kind of _idiot_ that wouldn’t notice. Red always seemed to be hurt on his hands and ribs, Sans on his jaw and collarbone, and Skull...

  
  


... Well. He never seemed to get physically hurt.

  
  


You wondered why.

  
  


But that was beside the point. At first, you’d been so worried about the constant scraps... you’d regularly interrogated the boys about what’d happened, who’d said what, why they fought. And perhaps you would’ve continued caring and patching them up if they weren’t _all just as bad as each other at dodging questions._

  
  


Like... geez. You thought Sans was bad. Red would immediately flirt and wink his way out of the situation... one moment you attempted to spring him with a question and get him off-guard, the next you don’t know which way is up and all you can see is his grin and all you can hear is his smooth, silky voice... and then he’s vanished, leaving you sitting there, trying to gather your thoughts and remember what you even wanted to ask in the first place.

  
  


Was it a family thing? Avoiding lying by just not answering?

  
  


A-and at least either of those two _tried!_ Skull would just stand there and not even acknowledge you talking! You figured that after that little moment the two of you had, he’d be a bit more open with you. But no- he was the worst of the three in not giving you what you needed to know. With Red and Sans, if you pushed hard enough for long enough, they would eventually break and tell you.

  
  


But not Skull. He was unswayable.

  
  


Ugh... You’d... you’d stopped bothering at this point.

  
  


...

  
  


Well. You never stopped bothering. It was how you got to here in the first place. In fact, you’d started spending your few minutes of free time at work reading articles on how to get people to get along better. You juuust... stopped worrying to their _faces._

  
  


And speaking of those articles- you’d found a particular one that piqued your interest. You’d been idly sipping your coffee and wishing you could prop your feet up on the front desk for a moment (you’d never hear the end of it from your boss if you actually did), when one of the numbered options for ‘getting people you know to get along’ caught your eye.

  
  


Number 8...

  
  


“a sleepover?” Sans said, incredulously, looking at you with a tilted skull and a semi-tired grin. “... kiddo, we all live in the same apartment. i share a room with them. every day’s a forced sleepover.”

  
  


“Yeah, but this one will be _different.”_ You insisted, over breakfast. At this time of morning you and Sans were the only ones who were up- you weren’t sure _why_ he was up, considering whatever job he did he did completely from home. He was still wearing his pyjama pants and hoodie, so you figured he just immediately went back to bed when you were gone (he slept in his hoodie, too. Kinda gross). Sometimes, you were suspicious he only got up because it was private time with you that the other two couldn’t interrupt. “We can all sleep in the living room, have another movie night, play video games... And you guys can learn to get along a little. Also, get your gross feet off my clean table.”

  
  


... Sans’s bare feet were probably the only part of his body you couldn’t actually look at without feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Unlike his hands, that sported a palm-like object in the centre and mirrored regular human hands a lot more, his feet were completely skeletal, with giant long toe bones that just gave an odd feeling in your stomach like you were looking at something you weren’t supposed to see.

  
  


At least it was remedied by him wearing those old-ass slippers.

  
  


He snickered, but not in a mean way, shifting his body and uncrossing his legs, moving instead into a slouched sitting position. You couldn’t place his smile... was it fondness? Your heart skipped a little.

  
  


“your efforts to make us hate each other less are valliant, to say the least.” He said, eyelights fuzzy.

  
  


“I’ll break you eventually.” You chuckled, standing and carrying your empty plate over to the sink, turning on the tap and giving it a quick scrub. “We could do it this Friday and stay up as late as we like, since I don’t have work. Play some games, eat snacks, chat... relax!”

  
  


The more you thought about it, the more you liked the idea. It definitely seemed like the best method at the moment of just getting them to be less tense around each other... it was like they were constantly competing over something.

  
  


You looked at Sans over your shoulder as you put the clean dish back in the cupboard, giving him your best pleading smile.

  
  


“Could... you... bring it up while I’m gone? Maybe attempt to convince them it’s a good idea? Please?”

  
  


...

  
  


He blinked, twice, sockets wide, before... chuckling nervously, and scratching the side of his head, looking away, slouching even further in his chair. Was he... _sweating...?_

  
  


“c-c’mon, kiddo, don’t do that.” He stammered.

  
  


“... Don’t do what?” You asked, confused, face falling for a moment. Did... did he really find the others so scary that he couldn’t even talk to them about something like this...?

  
  


“that face.” He mumbled.

  
  


... Oh. You relaxed. It was just the expression you were pulling.

  
  


“You mean...” You did it again, this time turning fully toward him, batting your eyelashes and clasping your hands by your face in a Fair Maiden pose. _“This_ one?”

  
  


“o-oh my god _s-stop...”_ He wheezed, chest bouncing, cheekbones going bright blue. “i’ll do it. i’ll talk to them. just stop that face.”

  
  


You couldn’t help but giggle. You headed over, grabbing your bag from the table, ready to go.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Sans’s blushing face was so cute.

  
  


...

  
  


For a moment, you weren’t thinking. Something in you chest faintly buzzed as you looked down at him and his dumb blue handsome face, eyelights sparkling...

  
  


... You grabbed his skull with one hand, and pressed a tiny kiss to his smooth forehead. He was warm.

  
  


“Thanks, Sans.”

  
  


And then you _immediately left before you had time to react to your own dumb decision._

  
  


\---

  
  


_holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit hooly shit holy shit - holy SHIT what what what what what- i’m never washing my skull again- i mean it was probably a platonic kiss anyway but what the fuck i can’t they kissed my skull what their lips were so warm and soft they smelled so good i c_

  
  


\---

  
  


Naturally, the week went by rather slowly now that you had something to genuinely look forward to, after Red and Skull came round to the idea of this set-up sleepover (Red kept making faces at you and Skull just seemed to agree because you'd proposed it). Only three people actually spoke to you at work when they came to the front desk; a perfectly dressed tall woman with hair like dark chocolate... dark brown, nutty and smooth, but not nearly as sweet or friendly as regular chocolate; a man who somehow reminded you of a pale white hand towel (Was it his ridiculously short loopy hair and bright white clothes? Maybe); and an adorable girl around 16 with paint-stained fingers and her hair back in a bun, who smelled overpoweringly of cinnamon. Everyone else just gave their names, sat in the waiting room and... well, _waited._

  
  


This gave you plenty of time, however, to think about what movies and/or games you would play with the boys during the get-along sleepover you had mentally planned so extensively. Naturally, truth-or-dare would have to be one, that was tradition... you were pretty sure you still had Guitar Hero III somewhere in the boxes by the tv, but there were only two guitars, so everyone would have to take turns. Would Skull like Guitar Hero III? Would Skull like _anything?_ He’d agreed to the ‘sleepover’ when Red had, but you still had very little idea on how to read him so there was a possibility that he didn’t actually want to take part in it at all, and simply felt pressured.

  
  


... Well. What could you do at this point? You were excited. If he didn’t want to take part in anything he could just sit with you, right?

  
  


The day finally rolled around, as all days do. You packed up your stuff, tidied reception, put the night phone on and headed home almost too fast, faster than you usually went to avoid your boss. You nearly tripped on the train platform twice, eager to just get back to the apartment and get ready. There was a small excited buzz in your chest, but... also some nervousness.

  
  


What if it didn't work? What if it was just awkward and weird, a bunch of adults in their pyjamas sleeping uncomfortably on the living room floor?

  
  


All those worries began to buzz in your head and cloud your excitement so much that you faltered at the complex, and almost paused at the front door, key in hand, brow furrowing as you stared at it like it'd insulted you. What if... what if you walked in and no one wanted to do it, and all of this just made you look stupid and desperate...?

  
  


... But then, of course, Sans answered already in his pyjamas (wait... did he even change?), and with a similarly-clad Red poking his head around the corner and grinning upon seeing it was you, all your nervousness faded instantly, melting into joy at the state of the living room; absolutely covered in pillows and blankets.

  
  


This could work out!

  
  


“This is exciting!” You piped, sitting on the floor with them after changing into your own pjs, taking the space between Red and Sans. You were already beaming- you noticed Red looking at you and smiling to himself. Apparently it was just as infectious as you’d hoped.

  
  


Skull was wearing pyjama pants that looked far too small for him (you’d have to go out and buy him some fitting pants), only just reaching the middle of his calves, and the shirt he’d arrived in. But... you’d insisted on washing the latter. There were some weird brown stains on the front (probably ketchup, if he was anything like Sans) that wouldn’t come out but you did your best and it was definitely a brighter white than before. Red had borrowed some of Sans’s pyjama pants and you _knew he knew_ you kept glancing at the outrageously tight shirt he was wearing over the top, pressed flush against his ribcage.

  
  


Sans was just chilling in the same pants and hoodie he always slept in, but he seemed to be sitting a lot closer to you than he normally would be.

  
  


“We-” You began.

  
  


Skull’s face twisted, and he got up as soon as you were sat. For a moment, cut off, you looked up at him in surprise, especially when he stepped in your direction- he wasn’t leaving, was he? Did he really hate the idea of this that much? You’d barely even started anything! Your heart sank.

  
  


... But instead, he... sat behind you heavily. Directly behind you. His giant legs on either side of yours, encompassing your now-tiny body. He leant back, propping himself up on his hands.

  
  


...

  
  


That was it. You paused, cheeks pinking- was he just... jealous you hadn’t sat with him...? It felt like a cat sitting on your keyboard. _I’m not touching you I’m just sitting reaaally close._

  
  


“what’re we gonna do first, then?” Red said, with an amused tone, providing a much needed break in the silence for you to start talking. You shot him a quick smile, trying to ignore how much of a dark, pissed off aura was radiating from Sans, who’s brow was creased and sockets narrowed.

  
  


“Well,” It was surprisingly easy to ignore Skull behind you. “I was thinking truth or dare, since it’s basically tradition to do it at sleepovers at this point.”

  
  


“works fer me.” He grinned.

  
  


“if you dare them to do anything weird or sexual i’m gonna kick your as-” Sans immediately growled, but Red cut over him, pouting his ‘lips’ and putting a hand on his chest in mock hurt.

  
  


“aww, c’mon blue, we’re supposed to be gettin’ along for this one. an’ do you really think i would do somethin’ like that?”

  
  


“yes.”

“Absolutely.”

  
  


Red blinked at you and you just shrugged, giving him a raised brow look, ignoring the further heat in your face and hoping it wouldn’t show up. He _totally would_ ask you to do something weird. The two of you knew it.

  
  


“... aaah. fine, ok. i won’t ask anythin’ sexual.” He grumbled, leaning back, twisting his lips over his teeth and muttering something about how ‘smurf gotta keep crushin’ my dreams’.

  
  


“Who wants to go first, then?” You asked, sitting up straighter, a little smile on your face that you couldn’t stop.

  
  


It wasn’t like you never did these as a kid, but... you just... did them _very few_ times. You weren’t _unpopular_ but you weren’t exactly the centre of attention either- just plain enough to be normal and just not quite good enough to go to all the popular guy’s parties and sleepovers and hangouts. Something like this... pillows on the floor, blankets, pyjamas, the TV set up, sitting in a ring playing truth or dare... it was awakening the little kid inside you who’d missed this over the years.

  
  


“i’ll do it. why not?” Red chuckled, leaning forward a bit.

  
  


“Okay.” You mirrored his position. “Truth or dare?”

  
  


“dare, baby.” He purred. Sans seethed further.

  
  


“I dare you... to...” _Take your goddamn shirt o-_ nonono, No. You bit your own lip to stop yourself from saying that. His eyelights certainly seemed to smoulderingly ask you to strip, so you furrowed your brow and dug your brain for something quick to do. “... Oh! When we put the movie on, take a shot every time someone can point out a dumb cliche.”

  
  


... Red’s grin stretched wider, and... oddly, so did Sans’s. You wished you could see Skull’s reaction from behind you.

  
  


“you sure know how to pick ‘em, sweetheart.” He rested his chin on his hand, and in turn was resting his elbow on his knee. “tryna get me drunk?”

  
  


“just move it on, asshole.” Sans muttered. You gave him a look and he sighed through his nasal bone- he really wasn’t helping your attempts at setting up a friendlier atmosphere.

  
  


“aight then.” Red turned his gaze on your smallest roommate. “blue. truth or dare?”

  
  


“truth.” He said, the two holding such intense eye contact that you leaned back a bit into Skull’s chest for a bit of protection.

  
  


Red feigned thinking for a moment, placing his hand on his chin and narrowing his sockets... then raised his brows and bounced them.

  
  


“what’s your ideal partner?”

  
  


... If Sans had been drinking something he would’ve immediately spat it out in shock. For some reason, his white, pinprick eyelights glanced over at you as he moved in his seat (did he want help?) but they immediately went back to Red. He cleared his throat multiple times, cheekbones blotching with azure.

  
  


“g- u-uh, i...” All eyes were on him. “i-i like smart people. with a sense of humour.”

  
  


“what about the body?” Red pressed, grinning like the cat who got the canary- a victorious, sly smile.

  
  


“that’s two questions. ahah. moving on.” He turned to Skull, definitely attempting to regain his composure. You turned too, in your seat, so you could face your largest friend. “skull, truth or dare?”

  
  


... Skull’s face was still completely expressionless, save for the blown eyelight boring into an unaffected Sans. You weren’t sure what else you were expecting. There was something almost... _comforting_ about the fact that no matter what was asked, Skull would always remain completely still. Your shoulders relaxed a bit and you allowed yourself to lean that little extra more into him.

  
  


“truth.” He rumbled, voice so deep through your back.

  
  


... Sans mulled over his words for a moment, then smiled.

  
  


_Not a nice smile._

  
  


“what’s something you would usually keep to yourself?”

  
  


Skull didn’t skip a beat.

  
  


“i like to watch them sleep.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Wait.

  
  


“what?” Was Red’s only response. He leant forward, smile gone. Sans was sitting there like someone had just told him his dog had been shot.

  
  


... You just looked at Skull.

  
  


...

  
  


Then he rolled his giant eyelight.

  
  


“fucking _joking._ star wars is overrated.”

  
  


The wave of relief that passed over the other two was almost strong enough to be tasted- Red’s shoulders dropped, and Sans put a hand over his chest, taking a small breath.

  
  


You, however, were slightly outraged.

  
  


“You think _what!?”_ You turned completely so that you were facing him. “Star Wars is NOT overrated!”

  
  


_“that’s_ what you’re incensed about...?” You heard Sans ask quietly, but you were too busy waiting for Skull’s answer to your question.

  
  


He just shrugged.

  
  


“Right. That’s it. We’re watching Star Wars as our movie tonight.”

  
  


“truth or dare.” Skull muttered, eyelight finally rolling down to you.

  
  


... Oh. You blinked. Oh yeah! It was his turn, wasn’t it? You nearly forgot. So he was asking you?

  
  


“...” Well, hm... Skull seemed harmless enough. And Star Wars could wait a minute. “Dare!” You chirped.

  
  


“stay still.”

  
  


“... Stay sti-?” You barely had enough time to finish your sentence, Skull was already inches away from you, shadow falling over you. Hard, warm lips pressed against your forehead for only a moment... then parted with a small breath.

  
  


...

  
  


You went bright pink.

  
  


Immediately, a loud snarl tore through the quiet air from both sides of you. Someone stood and a pillow fell, and the air began to sizzle like lightning about to strike, and-

  
  


“Wh-who wants to play Guitar Hero?” You all but _shrieked,_ jumping to your feet, raising your hands and surprising Skull, trying to balance in your head if this sleepover was still worth potentially losing your apartment over.

  
  


...

  
  


“... guitar what?” Red said. Just like that, the tension bled from the air, and you relaxed, with a tiny sigh, hands coming down, probably sweating. You were surprised to see that _he_ was the one who’d stood up... you’d been expecting Sans. Sans was usually the first offender.

  
  


“Guitar Hero. The game. Well... Guitar Hero 3. The original is unplayable now.”

  
  


...

  
  


Red’s confused face was all you needed to crack out the disc.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


And two rounds was all you needed to see how embarrassingly outmatched you were.

  
  


\---

  
  


You’d always considered Sans to be your Mario Kart and GH III equal... Sometimes you’d hit that stray note or use the mushroom at just the right moment, and sometimes he’d just catch you with a blue shell at the last minute or hold that streak an instant more.

  
  


And, well, maybe you were still equals at Mario Kart.

  
  


But certainly not at GH III.

  
  


It’d taken Red all of three turns to get up to speed. You beat him the first time by the skin of your teeth because he still wasn’t sure of what buttons to press at what intervals and you hadn’t played in almost a year, but he swiftly beat you the second round and then absolutely whooped your ass by the third, clearly very much enjoying the wide variety of songs he could choose.

  
  


Then he’d tried out against a semi-reluctant Sans, and you’d seen a God on Earth.

  
  


You knew Sans had played bass for a little while before giving it up because he was too lazy to learn ‘any more’- it’d been something he’d revealed to you after you found his trombone in the cupboard while doing a top-down clean of the apartment. You got the joke immediately, which had led into a loooong conversation about musical instruments _littered_ with music puns (“i try to make _clef_ -er jokes but they’re just not my _forte,_ they always seem to fall _flat.”_ “Give it a _rest.”_ ), and Sans geeking out about soundwaves and stuff like that, which you were half sure was him just using talking as an excuse to get out of helping you clean.

  
  


What he didn’t mention, however, was that he was so good at playing that he had the reflexes of someone who’d been playing GH non-stop for several _years._ Phalanges flying over the buttons, trained eyelights not leaving the screen, Red beside him stuttering at the pace of the song.

  
  


Their first round ended in a decisive victory on Sans’s part. The second round belonged to Red, easily, as his pride caught up and he got it together... You were glad they were doing something other than fighting to take their frustrations out on each other. They slammed through songs like their lives depended on it, brows furrowed in concentration and the air noticeably empty of magic. It was _exactly_ what they needed! You couldn't help but smile.

  
  


You ended up on the sofa next to Skull, who’d immediately opted out of any attempts to challenge before the old guitars even came out of their boxes. It was only after two rounds by the now-rowdier others when you thought to ask him about it... He wasn’t making any move to even have a _try._

  
  


“You not a fan of these kinds of games?” You asked, leaning on him a bit.

  
  


... After a slight pause, he held up his giant hand, and slowly moved his upper fingers in a squeezing motion. The slight shake was more obvious now that you were closer and had noted it before... like an old man, with an essential tremor.

  
  


“... Not got good hand-eye coordination?” You inferred, glancing from his hand to his big eye, that rolled to meet yours.

  
  


“... not... gonna... make a fool of myself.” He rumbled.

  
  


...

  
  


You felt really bad for him. So you shuffled up just that bit closer, allowing yourself to relax more. The two of you could watch the louder guys duke it out together.

  
  


...

  
  


A hand wove its way into your hair.

  
  


\---

  
  


Skull felt...

  
  


...

  
  


Good.

  
  


Well. Okay. Good was a strong word. He... _didn’t feel unpleasant._

  
  


Your hair felt so wonderful in his hands. So _soft._.. So many strands, moving as one. Some would move between the cracks in his hands, brushing more sensitive areas... Warmer near the roots, smelling faintly of vanilla... It’d pulled him in and captivated him, like... some kind of... delicate, sweet smelling spider’s web. He wanted to press his face into it and breathe in the aroma. Your skin was _so good,_ too, but he had to be more careful with that... as much as his hands ached to wrap around your neck and feel the _warmth_ and delicate, delicate softness, he knew better than to put himself in a position where he could so easily kill you.

  
  


You would no doubt start to panic. And you panicking would set off his more... _alarming_ desires.

  
  


... And although he rather wanted to hear the little squealing, fearful noises you’d make, to hold you down under him as you try to fight him off like a tiny kitten, drunk on having so much power over you, a dull ache in his chest told him he wouldn’t like the taste of your terror when it was all he could have from you.

  
  


And he’d already grown so accustomed to you being comfortable around him... not looking at him with horror and disgust.

  
  


Just picturing that face now... eyes full of panic, clinging to the others when he came near, flinching away when he tried to touch you...

  
  


...

  
  


He kept stroking through your hair, back in reality finding he’d paused while buried in his own mind. Best for everyone he keep his sadistic desires a fantasy.

  
  


You clearly enjoyed the attention of him touching you, too, relaxing your shoulders and leaning into his hand a little, which made it far easier for him to separate himself from his momentary delusions and instead focus on the physical and mental stimulation in the present. He’d never experienced someone being so unafraid of his touch before... and he couldn’t deny that there was something about that, as he watched your expressions with a lidded socket, that made him feel... _good._

  
  


Perhaps he was more touch starved than he’d let himself believe he was. Especially considering his gut instinct that night on this same sofa in the dark with you, in his moment of emotional weakness.... It’d felt like his Soul had cried out to you the moment he’d seen your face, desperate for touch, desperate for the only one in this godforsaken timeline who didn’t look at him like he was a fucking freak.

  
  


Perhaps that explained the creeping feeling in his chest that’d told him to pull you close and never let go, that was quietly getting stronger with each passing day.

  
  


That must be it.

  
  


... Just touch starved.

  
  


He looked up at the scene in front of him, and the two versions of himself playing whatever this game was. The bright colours on the screen moved too fast, in too many directions, and just watching them go by made him feel slightly sick... Sitting here with you was so much more appealing. All he knew was that he wanted Blue to win this round. His chest felt weird and a crease formed between his brow bones as he looked at Red... Red was just more competent in general, and needed to be taken down a peg before he-

  
  


...

  
  


... Wait. Where was that train of thought going?

  
  


Skull paused, blinking slowly, and turning to look back at you. You were watching the game with wide eyes, apparently impressed at the speed which they played at.

  
  


_... again._ He thought, narrowing his sockets a little as he tried to unpack and process the thought he’d just cut off. _that..._ _ **possessiveness.**_ _am... am i seriously wishing red would lose a video game because i’m worried they're going to like him more than me if he does well?_

  
  


...

  
  


... Huh.

  
  


He continued stroking your hair again, the action releasing a little of the tightness in his chest. Touching you just felt so _good._

  
  


_all i know is i don’t want either of them to win._

  
  


_..._

  
  


_and i’m not even sure if i’m thinking about the video game._


	11. It's always sunny somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aka 'fuck you I know it's winter I want my beach episode'

The door practically screamed in protest as it flung open at a speed you didn’t even think it was possible for doors to open at.

  
  


_SLAM!_

  
  


...

  
  


Uh oh.

  
  


Immediately, instinctively, your hands flew in the air in a surrender, throwing the phone out of your grip onto the floor.

  
  


_You knew that style of door opening anywhere._

  
  


The four of you had just been chilling in the living room- you scrolling on your phone and chatting to Sans while Skull did your hair from behind and Red continued playing Guitar Hero III on his own. Your _sharpest_ roommate maybe have been inscenced by his defeat at the hands of Sans and loudly proclaimed he’d ‘never play the fucking game again’, but here he was, lying on the floor with his back and head supported by a few stray cushions, guitar casually laid across his body as he worked his way through the levels on his own, refusing to move on until he’d performed the song completely flawlessly. He’d been stuck on Knights of Cydonia for a little while now but seemed to be about to do a complete runthrough...

  
  


Then, of course, Undyne appeared.

  
  


You’d shrieked and put your hands in the air, Red had startled and missed a note (“son of a _BITCH!”)_ and Sans had visibly flinched, sitting up.

  
  


“WHAT’S UP _WEENIES?”_ The fish bellowed. Proportionally and size-wise, she was not that different from your average human female weightlifter. Tall, and at first glance normal, but as soon as you looked any closer you could see clearly defined lines under her clothing where there was more muscle mass in one square inch than in your entire body. Strong, lean, solid. Her ‘skin’ was cyan blue scales that shone in the light, ears fan-like fins with red spines, remaining eye large and a stunning yellow containing a slit of black. Her blood-coloured hair was constantly back in the same tight ponytail high on her head (wouldn’t that give her a headache?) and she always, _always_ looked like she was ready to kick your ass.

  
  


And in behind her, nervous, almost unnoticed, came her fiancée Alphys, wearing a small green and white polka dot dress. A little lizard monster with bright yellowish gold scales, a pointed head that ended in a three-pointed crown and rectangular glasses perched on her snout, who might’ve been a few inches taller than you and Sans if she wasn’t constantly walking like a pangolin on it’s hind legs.

  
  


Undyne stormed forward- did she get a key this time, or did she break your door _again?-_ and pointed at Sans.

  
  


“Alphys filled me in! We’re here to see the new guys, and also make an offer you CANNOT refuse!”

  
  


Your relationship with Undyne had initially been...

  
  


... Well. At least Sans, at first, didn’t seem like he was going to pull out your guts and wear them like body armour decorations.

  
  


She’d come round to visit him quite a few times, probably at the pressing of her girlfriend, and immediately picked up on the skeleton’s distaste for your presence and company. This had made her hostile and terrifying and _wholly dislikable,_ especially given that her racist remarks were far more on the nose than Sans’s.

  
  


_“You sure you can let it have knives, Sans?” “Watch out, it’s got chlorine, might gas us.” “Humans are all cowards who let others fight for them.”_

  
  


She lacked tact of _any_ kind, which led to you calling her out on it (“All humans are _cowards?_ Do some history and tell that to MLK, _fish bitch!”)_ and getting into some very heated verbal fights that left you running to the bathroom to hide and cry.

  
  


Alphys, on the other hand, had quietly waited to form her own opinion of you instead of just picking up from where the other two left off. You had to give her credit for that and definitely felt quite bad when you’d just assumed she was the silent pushover type who’d follow Undyne’s every word... the little lizard was the one who came to check on you the first time you shut yourself in the bathroom, soft stammering voice a welcome break from Sans’s sub-zero tone and Undyne’s constant screaming. She joined you in the locked room and the two of you talked for almost an hour about stresses, bosses, adjusting to life, and feeling like other people just don’t understand you.

  
  


You’d made a great friend that day.

  
  


And of course, when Sans mysteriously changed his mind about you, you’d found yourself with a full sincere apology from Undyne and a thumbs up from Alphys. It’d taken some time, but now you and the ex royal-guard captain were on decent, if not friendly terms. Now they just kept looking at you and Sans and _giggling_ when they visited. Did they know about your crush? You refused to let them know.

  
  


...

  
  


A giant hand that’d been in your hair softly and _protectively_ moved to your shoulder. You looked over your shoulder at Skull, confused...

  
  


“... You ok, buddy?” You asked, putting your own hand over his. He was so _tense..._

  
  


... And his single eyelight never left Undyne.

  
  


“an offer i can’t refuse, huh?” Sans repeated, feigning interest, raising one brow. Red was still fuming over losing the round... He made eye contact with Alphys, who jumped nervously under his gaze and looked away, clearly sweating.

  
  


“so this is yer undyne and alphys?” He asked, only to be kicked hard in the side by Sans. _Your_ Undyne and Alphys...? Red hissed and grabbed his rib, sitting up, guitar falling off his lap onto the floor. “jesus _christ_ asshole, i didn’t even say anything.”

  
  


“whatever. anyway.” Sans turned to the newcomers again, grin switching from tight and pissed to only slightly miffed. “it better be good, ‘dyne, considering that’s the fourth door you’ve broken.”

  
  


“So she _did_ break it!” You exclaimed, turning in your seat a bit. “I said you’re paying for it if you break it again!”

  
  


“Yeah, yeah.” She waved a webbed hand. “I’ll pay. Whatever. I...”

  
  


... Undyne’s eye met Skull’s.

  
  


...

  
  


... Skull’s hand on your shoulder tightened, and the other went around your stomach. His face, insistent, pressed against the back of your head and you flushed a little at his unafraid proximity.

  
  


... Protective, huh?

  
  


“... Uh... This is the big guy?” Undyne asked, pointing, looking at Sans. You felt like a pet rabbit being held by a possessive toddler. Undyne was also cringing a little- seemed to not be doing too well under the constant staring you’d been forced to get used to.

  
  


“that’s him. anyway,” Sans gestured for her to continue.

  
  


“... Oh! Right. SO!” She flexed her arms.

  
  


...

  
  


“... Alphys, what were we here for?”

  
  


Alphys smiled, a happy, amused, yet shy smile. “C-camping.”

  
  


“YES, THAT!” Undyne regained her train of thought. “We’re going camping and we have an extra tent! And we’re going to visit a beach on the way! So you _all_ should come with!”

  
  


“pft. nope.” Was Red’s flat, bored response.

  
“s’papyrus going?” Sans asked.

  
  


... Skull’s grip tightened.

  
  


“No, he’s busy training for his marathon on Monday.” Undyne put her hands on her hips, beaming. She was so proud of your roommate’s younger brother... The two of them shared a burning passion for exercise, strength and power that you and Sans (and to some extent, Alphys) just didn’t have.

  
  


“then why wouldn’t i refu-”

  
  


“The beach!?” You gasped, in delight, sitting up in Skull’s increasingly dominating grip.

  
  


... Had Alphys been counting on her fingers? You definitely saw her snicker. But either way, you didn’t care- they said the _beach!_ You almost bounced in excitement- you weren’t exactly the greatest fan of camping but if it was with all your new buddies plus the extra of Undyne and Alphys, it wasn’t exactly the _worst_ punishment for visiting the beach!

  
  


Speaking of Undyne- she grinned, showing all her razor sharp teeth. “Well I’m glad ONE of you weenies is excited to go!”

  
  


“Wait, but...” You deflated, back into Skull’s hold, much to his apparent satisfaction. “... Isn’t it gonna be too cold on the beach?”

  
  


“Nope.” Undyne waved the question off. You sighed, relieved you wouldn’t be freezing your ass off on frosty sand, but not bothering to chase up the answer- you just chalked it up to magic. “We’ll drive to the beach, then head over to where we’re pitching our tents, camp out and leave the next morning. You losers just need to pack and be ready for Saturday!”

  
  


“I’ll go! This Saturday, right?” You looked between Sans and Red. “I haven’t got anything planned!”

  
  


“waait, wait wait.” Red sat up, large body shifting, shirt riding up his ribs a little. He raised both his brows. “if they're goin’, i’m goin’. an i ain’t ever been to a beach before.”

  
  


“NICE!” Undyne did a thumbs up. You flushed a bit, looking down... flattered that he’d change his mind so easily because you were going.

  
  


“hey!” Sans’s grin twisted. “you can’t just say you’ll go like that!”

  
  


“pft.” Red relaxed back into his pile of pillows again, snickering. “like you weren’t three seconds from doin’ the exact same thing.”

  
  


Sans’s cheekbones flushed indignantly with blue. “w-well i would’ve been at least _subtle_ about it!”

  
  


“the only thing subtle about you is when ya walk into a room and no one can see ya cus’ of yer height.”

  
  


_“you fucking-_ right, that’s it.” You were about to shout and stand up to stop them from fighting (probably never would’ve made it out of Skull’s grip anyway) when Sans teleported the second GH III guitar into his hand, teeth bared. You blinked in surprise, stopping. “one on one, _through the fire and flames,_ right now. i won’t be disrespected in my own home.”

  
  


... Red’s grin grew into something less than friendly.

  
  


“you’re on.”

  
  


... As they backed through the options to select Battle Mode, you shuffled a little, looking over your shoulder as best you could at Skull, who pulled his face from your hair to meet your eyes. His hand on your shoulder joined the other at your stomach... one alone was large enough to cover your entire belly.

  
  


“What about you?” You smiled. “Wanna come?”

  
  


... Now that you were close, you could see that when he thought, his giant iris actually _moved_ very gently, as if conveying his thought process. Like most things about Skull, it was impossible to see if you weren’t looking for it, but this near to him the faint flickers and minuscule dilations were clearly visible.

  
  


Took him a few seconds, but he nodded.

  
  


You grinned, wide, so pleased that you’d have all three of your roommates coming wi-

  
  


Alphys made a sound resembling something between a gasp and a choke. You turned, surprised, and so did Undyne, but Alphys just grabbed her fiancée’s scaley, long-nailed hand and tugged her out of the room into the kitchen, shutting the door behind them so hard it didn’t even click shut, bouncing open the tiniest slither.

  
  


... Huh. You were about to say something and call them back, when-

  
  


“so, dollface.” Red said, looking up at you from the floor while Sans scrolled the options, smile softer than usual. “i ain’t been to a beach before. what’s it like?”

  
  


\---

  
  


“Alphys? What’s wrong with you?” Undyne asked, brows furrowing. “Is it something about them and their universes? I know we’re not allowed to tell the human but-”

  
  


Alphys’s face was dark, unreadable, ominous, glasses glinting in the light coming in from the kitchen window.

  
  


“U-Undyne...” She replied, quietly. “Can’t you _see?”_

  
  


“See what?” Undyne asked, incredulously, nervousness ramping. “You’re making me even _more_ worried, babe.”

  
  


“... It’s...” She stammered. “It’s... It’s...”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Alphys looked up to the light, her eyes glimmering, nose nearly bleeding, cheek scales a bright, _adorable_ pink that made Undyne’s own cheeks fluster and grow hot.

  
  


“I-it’s a _reverse harem!”_ She squealed, pressing both her claws to the sides of her face, then pointing at the gap in the open door. “Look, look at them all! Y-you can’t tell me those boneheads don’t all have the same lovestruck expression!”

  
  


... Undyne turned to look... and her own eye began to glint with a mixture of pure evil and pure excitement as she observed you. Your animated chatter about beaches was watched almost religiously and unbrokenly by Skull who seemed aware of nothing else in the room, Sans was leaning back on the sofa and smiling with that small, warm smile he only ever used for you, and Red was resting his chin on his hand and grinning along with everything you said. She could practically see the love hearts coming off all of them.

  
  


“You’re right...” Undyne breathed. “Three exact copies of the same guy...”

  
  


“So o-of _course_ they’re gonna fall for the same person, right?” Alphys could barely contain the giddiness that formed into mini sparks of electricity flickering from her claw tips. “It’s like an anime written out for us!”

  
  


“... It’s _perfect.”_

  
  


“A-and what do we, as the tent bringers, have c-complete control over when we go camping?” Alphys asked, voice getting even more hushed and excited.

  
  


“... Who goes where.” Undyne’s eye narrowed.

  
  


“A-and what’s the single best romantic trope for two people who think their l-love for each other is unrequited?”

  
  


...

  
  


Undyne’s eye snapped open, and she picked her fiancée up by the waist, pride and pure adoration written all over her features. They both whispered in absolute, perfect synchrony.

  
  


_“There’s only one bed.”_

  
  


\---

  
  


When Undyne said she’d ‘show up on Friday’ you were expecting, like... 10 or 11 am, at worst.

  
  


Not fucking six in the morning.

  
  


You were bullied awake by multiple phone calls, and stared blearily at the screen for a few moments, not even fully aware how it got from your beside to your hand. It was _from_ Alphys’s number, but... the fact that she was actually _calling_ and not just texting told you it must be Undyne. Alphys, like you, but worse, was far too socially anxious to ever talk to a friend over the phone. And after a quick (loud) conversation with Undyne and the utilisation of an app you’d downloaded on your phone that blasted an alarm at top volume to get the guys up, you found yourself bundled in the back of a large vehicle, between Skull’s legs for the umpteenth time. There were four of you in the back, but only three seats, and you thought there’d be slightly more argument over who’s lap you had to sit on but apparently everyone was too tired to even notice.

  
  


“If the police pull us over just teleport them somewhere else.” Undyne joked, starting up the engine.

  
  


Her response was a half-hearted grumble from Sans and a giant yawn from you.

  
  


The car ride was largely uneventful. You did enjoy looking at the scenery for a little while, watching the buildings gradually get smaller and smaller until they completely melted away to trees, but after that it was mostly just the same thing over and over and your eyelids began to get heavier without permission.

  
  


And about a few hours into the ride, Sans leaned over, nudging you gently with his elbow. You opened your eyes and turned to him, pretending like you hadn’t just been about to drop off.

  
  


“... hey. saw a post online the other day.” His sockets were soft, eyelights a... _warmer_ shade of white. ...If that made sense. “it got me thinking.”

  
  


“Hm?” You hummed, blinking a few times.

  
  


“if you’re ever in trouble, we should have a code word.”

  
  


Oh, that got everyone’s attention. Red leaned forward to join in the conversation and Skull, behind you, moved, sitting up a little straighter.

  
  


“something you can say into the phone or text us that will tell us we should _immediately_ come get you.” He continued.

  
  


“... Like... if someone’s in the room with me?” You asked, tilting your head. Your first question was why Sans thought this would be necessary but you brushed it off as him being paranoid and weird again. Might as well humour him. Besides- the way the other two immediately snapped to attention made you think this was something they all agreed on.

  
  


Sans nodded.

  
  


“that way, we always know if you need one of us to help, but for some reason you can’t say anything.”

  
  


“that actually makes a lot ‘a sense.” Red hummed, scratching the side of his skull. “stop ya from drawin’ attention to yourself while we get there.”

  
  


“... Yeah. Alright.” You agreed. “But it counts for you guys too. If I hear the codeword, I’ll come get you.”

  
  


“sounds good.” Sans smiled. “... what should we pick?”

  
  


“needs ta be somethin’ that would never come up in a regular phone convo.”

  
  


... Skull spoke, voice almost surprising to hear, given he’d managed to spend almost two days not saying a word.

  
  


“a food.”

  
  


“... Yeah, actually.” You nodded. “That’s a really good idea. Hm...”

  
  


You started to think of foods you’d never usually eat or ask for, brow creasing a little and lips moving into a thoughtful pout. Can’t be something savoury because somebody might genuinely need that for a meal, so in the sweet category. Not cakes, you’d ask about those. Something fatty, something you’d only ever get if someone bought it for you...

  
  


_Red leant right in close again, to whisper, low rumble practically shaking you, as you momentarily tried to guess whether or not he was going to bite your ear, breath hot on your sensitive skin. “i know you ain’t into bedroom activities right now, but...”_

_Yep he just nipped your ear._

_“i don’t mind being led on a little.”_

_And-_

_... He popped an M &M in your mouth, winked and suddenly backed off completely AGAIN, leaving you just staring with wide eyes, a completely tomato face, and a red M&M just sitting there between your lax lips. _

...

  
  


Your face flushed a little.

  
  


“M&Ms.” You almost stuttered, avoiding eye contact with Red. “I’ll ask for M&Ms.”

  
  


Out of the corner of your eye you could see the way his grin split far wider, sockets lidding and golden tooth glimmering in the light of the window, but he (mercifully) didn’t mention anything, nor point out to the others why it was M&Ms in particular that you chose.

  
  


...Good. You didn’t want to die any more.

  
  


“then it’s settled.” Sans said, leaning back into his seat. “if any one of us asks for m&ms, it’s code for ‘emergency, help me’.”

  
  


You hummed in agreement, glad he didn’t notice the growing pink in your cheeks, and quickly fell back asleep against Skull’s chest.

  
  


\---

  
  


The beach was even more beautiful than you remembered.

  
  


You weren’t sure how you’d gotten somewhere so warm during the car ride- all you knew was that you’d fallen asleep, then woken up as Undyne opened her car door to announce your arrival. Immediately, the warmth of the air hit you... it wasn’t unpleasantly hot, but it just... felt good. Relaxing.

  
  


You hopped out, eager to stretch your legs, again chalking the warmth up to Undyne and Alphys probably taking some magic teleportation tunnel and bringing you to another country. You were _so_ ready to just mess around and wear your two-piece swimsuit into the water (you’d been out to the shop on your own to buy it upon finding that your current one was kind of ratty and too small. Red’s comment of “on a scale of one to naked, how much skin do i get to see?” had promptly earned him a smack over the head with the bag).

  
  


The beach was gorgeous, long, golden sands blocked from the road only by a wall a few feet high, adorable colourful houses adorning the distance and town behind you. The sea seemed to go as far as the eye could see, a deep, unfathomable blue that got lighter and greener as it approached the shore, reminding you slightly of the colour of Sans’s magic. Splotches of red and blue and pink littered the shoreline, sunshades and blankets, loungers and blow-up toys, humans in swimsuits, monsters of every shape and size in the sand and water. You saw tigers, hands, octopi, a dragonfly... The amount of sunglasses everywhere made you mentally kick yourself- you’d forgotten yours.

  
  


“c’mon, better stop gaping.” Red said, nudging you, but you didn’t miss the way his eyelights kept lingering on the horizon. “i wanna see ya in yer swimsuit already.”

  
  


“Psht.” You nudged him back, harder. But he had a point- you wanted to get into your swimsuit and get on the sand already.

  
  


There were changing rooms nearby, little huts with colourful doors and roofs, but they were pay to enter and there was no way you were paying money to do something you could just do behind a towel. Undyne stepped in, thankfully, holding your fuzzy greenish towel around you while you slipped out of your crinkled, slightly-smelly-from-a-trip-in-the-car home clothes, and into your two-piece. As much as you loved and appreciated your skeleton buddies you did _not_ trust them to not peek.

  
  


You’d chosen something a little more on the modest side (though when someone said ‘modest’ in terms of two-piece swimwear it really meant ‘any thicker than a shoelace’), considering how many large guys you had in near proximity. It still showed plenty of skin on your legs, stomach and shoulders, but your chest and sides were suitably and comfortably covered with room to spare, as was the panty line. Light blue with small patterns of white, it was suitable, and slipped on easy without any fancy weird loops, buttons, clips, ties or strings. Simple and effective.

  
  


Undyne had a yellowish gold coloured two-piece that seemed to just be a sports crop-top and pants, and Alphys had a little one-piece that was a dark cyan blu- wait, did they get swimsuits that matched each other’s skin tone? That’s adorable! You smiled, and were about to awe in cuteness when you turned and ssHHHGG _GGGG-_

  
  


_-RED’S RIBCAGE WAS SHOWING. RED’S RIBCAGE WAS SHOWING._

  
  


He was turned to Sans, back to you, wearing only a pair of red trunks. His ribcage was solid, wide, and covered in cuts and scars, but the bones were just so _thick_ and his shoulders were so wide and his spine... his arms were s-so... and his pelvis was...

  
  


You nearly choked on your own spit, and Undyne cackled loudly, teeth seeming even sharper in the hot sunlight. She held up the towel again to give you a moment to compose yourself and cover your burning, crimson face.

  
  


“Alphys.” You whispered, high pitched, steaming at the ears, after seeing her devious little grin behind those glasses. “Alphys, Undyne, you can’t tell him I blushed. You can’t. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  
  


All you got was snickers, and a light pat on the shoulder.

  
  


Applying suncream as a trio (being the only ones with any reason to get sun protection in the first place) gave you enough time to cool down and prepare yourself to look again. The sand was warm under your feet, the smell of salt and cool seawater thick in the air, and the combination of senses was enough to distract you until you felt like you were suitably unflustered enough to come out. The boys had set up an umbrella for shade and some towels on the ground to provide somewhere to sit without getting sand on your ass... Skull was sitting, cross-legged, on one of these. He hadn’t changed out of his home clothes.

  
  


The moment you began to walk over to them, Undyne picked up Alphys onto her back and practically Usain-Bolted across the beach to a different area of water, sand flying up behind her. You paused, raising a brow... was it just you, or were they acting a little weird? It seemed that all they’d been doing was snickering, cackling or leaving you alone with the skeleton trio.

  
  


... Oh well. You sighed, fixing a bit of swimsuit that had folded under itself, and crossed the sand to your roommates.

  
  


You’d seen Sans’s ribcage before, the thick bone and rounded ribs and wider spine, but seeing it in broad daylight was always different. It would’ve been a bit sexier had he not already taped sunglasses to his skull, lying back on a towel in the shade, grinning like an idiot. Why did he have suncream on his nasal ridge? He didn’t have skin! You’d barely spoken to him and you were already giggling at his sheer goofiness.

  
  


“Hey guys.” You stepped under the shade for a moment. “It’s really hot, I’m heading over to the water.”

  
  


...

  
  


Sans took his sunglasses off.

  
  


You looked from him to Red, and back to him again, raising a brow.

  
  


“Coming?” You asked.

  
  


“jesus christ,” Red muttered, sockets wide. “i will be in a second if ya keep that up-”

  
  


Neither of you registered the sunscreen bottle that flew at him almost too fast to see until his hand snapped up and caught it purely out of reflex. He turned, blinking a few times in shock, and you hadn’t even felt yourself flinch until you took your hands away from your chest.

  
  


... Damn. Just how fast were these guys?

  
  


“shut it.” Sans growled, a low, angry warning, eyelights practically bubbling in his sockets. The goofy atmosphere was completely gone.

  
  


“... what?” Red’s surprised face morphed into a devious grin as he chucked the bottle back onto the towel. “m’ just sayin’ that if they keeps acting all cute i’m gonna c-”

  
  


You barely had a chance to register anything- Sans jumped up to his feet, furious, a snarl breaking free.

  
  


... Then Red _grabbed you by the waist,_ scooping you up, hoisting you over one gigantic shoulder and turning on his heel, _running for the water._

  
  


You squealed, momentarily confused but quickly bracing your hands on the back of his ribcage, face immediately blazing pink and kicking your legs (holy SHIT it was _so high up_ on Red’s shoulders) in a futile attempt to get his attention.

  
  


“R-RED, PUT ME DOWN!” You shrieked, embarrassed. You absolutely _could not_ deny, however, that it wasn’t enjoyable to be carried as Red bolted across warm sand, cackling like an idiot.

  
  


You knew he’d gotten to the water when sea spray to flew up and splashed all over his ribcage and the bottom of your legs, making you jump. It was only knee depth for him, from what you could see being bumped about on his shoulder, but for _you_ that would be already over midway up your thighs! You gripped harder, shivering- it was cold- _really_ cold- you just hoped he didn’t-

  
  


Sans teleported straight in front of him, appearing literally out of nowhere into the water. Red’s footing slipped, he stumbled, and you fell off his shoulder, all but screaming, straight into the freezing blue sea.

  
  


_Splash!_

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Both skeletons completely froze.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“SHIT!” Red swore in surprise, and in a few seconds _he_ was falling backwards into the sea too, with a _much_ louder splash than you’d made. You emerged, hair plastered to your face, cackling- holding one of Red’s giant thick legs in your hand by the tibia.

  
  


Beside you, you heard Sans smack his knee, and turned to see him laughing so hard he was bent double and physically wheezing.

  
  


You pointed, flicking droplets at him, trying hard not to grin.

  
  


“Don’t think you get out of this either, Sans!” You exclaimed, revelling in your new invincibility to splashes. “You were the one that made him jump!”

  
  


... That made him stop laughing. His expression dropped.

  
  


“... noo, wait, kiddo, no...” He started backing off, slowed due to the water around his legs, hands up, a weak grin on his face. Pathetic. “we’re friends, right?”

  
  


“Hah. NOT ANYMORE!” You declared, scooping water with one hand and splashing him decisively. He teleported out of the way, of course, but...

  
  


_... You were ready for that._

  
  


Using the other hand, you immediately splashed the spot right next to where he’d originally been. He moved _just in time_ to get hit straight in the face.

  
  


...

  
  


He stood there, in complete shock, little rivulets of salty water sliding down the smooth bone and dripping from the top of his sockets.

  
  


Red, apparently having emerged from the depths of 3ft at most behind you, _wheezed,_ then exploded into laughter.

  
  


“y-you got him in the fuckin’ face!” He howled. _Fuuck you miscalculated he looked super sexy when he was covered in water._ Running over his ribs, down his spine, golden tooth glinting in the reflected light of the sea every time he moved with a bellowing laugh... “r-right in the _face!”_

  
  


“i’ve been betrayed.” Sans said, voice monotone. “backstabbed by my partner in crime. i can’t believe this happened. i’ve been disrespected.”

  
  


“You can’t trust landlubbers, Sans.” You replied, crossing your arms, brows raised. “Especially angry ones that just got dumped into the sea.”

  
  


He responded by skimming his hand over the surface of the water and showering you in droplets.

  
  


A declaration of war.

  
  


Oh, it was _on._

  
  


\---

  
  


“Alphys, Alphys, look...” Undyne said, gently nudging her girlfriend. The short lizard had been lying on her fiancée’s front in the sun, the base of her reptile instincts enjoying the warm sunlight despite her ability to regulate her own temperature through magic condensation in different parts of her body. She blinked her eyes open, adjusting her glasses.

  
  


“W-what?”

  
  


“Look.” Undyne pointed a little ways down the beach. Alphys followed her line of sight...

  
  


... Three of you were playing in the water together. You were all completely soaked through- even Sans. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided to double team Red- Sans was sitting on your shoulders and directing waves of seawater at the determined enemy. They weren’t sure what, if any, advantages you got from having Sans on your shoulders but you at least seemed to be having fun.

  
  


“I-it really _is_ an anime, isn’t it?” Alphys whispered, face lighting up again. Undyne chuckled, and...

  
  


... Looked back up the beach to Skull, who was sat silently in the shade, watching the three of you having fun in the water with that one burning eyelight in a way that almost made her shiver.

  
  


“Sans give you any info on that big guy?”

  
  


Alphys took her glasses off and wiped them, trying (gently) to get a bit of sand off the lens. “I-It’s... complicated. Sans said that the o-only info he c-could get was that his t-timeline was exactly like ours until Frisk fell, a-and then it diverted off very violently. His F-Frisk did something in his timeline that didn’t happen in ours.”

  
  


“Wild.” She said, clearly not understanding at all, but not wanting to be dismissive about something her fiancée was so passionate about. “Pretty sure he hates me.”

  
  


“I-I dunno, it’s hard to tell. His face never seems to cha-”

  
  


At that moment, Skull’s head snapped in their direction. They both froze- even across the beach, they could see the way his working socket narrowed in an intense, fierce glare.

  
  


... They turned away.

  
  


“Y-yeah, ok, maybe he does.”

  
  


For a moment, it looked like he was getting up to go over to them. His massive body shifted on the sand, hand going behind him to lift himself up, and-

  
  


“Skuuull!” Came your voice, as you bounded out of the water toward him, droplets flying out around you.

  
  


... He sat back down.

  
  


...

  
  


Alphys and Undyne breathed.

  
  


\---

  
  


“Skuuull!” You called, waving as you headed over to him. The sand was warm under your feet, and getting out of the freezing water into a pleasant, not-freezing climate was really good for your soul considering how little you’d gone out over the summer. You still weren’t going to question how Undyne and Alphys managed to get you somewhere so hot in the middle of winter... and you _certainly_ weren’t complaining!

  
  


His eyelight rolled over to you... and down a bit at your costume. It then darted back up to your face, and...

  
  


... Was that a blue blush? No, it couldn’t be. _Skull_ didn’t blush.

  
  


You jogged over to the shade, panting very slightly, pulling your towel out of your bag and wrapping it around your shoulders so you wouldn’t drip everywhere, then sitting comfortably next to your buddy. The view was gorgeous, hot sun and blue sky dotted with tiny fluffy clouds, lighting up a sparkling ocean... It was _almost_ ruined by Sans holding Red’s skull under the surface of the water, yelling at him to admit something, but Red responded by grabbing the arm holding him and throwing Sans _over his shoulder_ into the shallows, sending splashes up into the air and making you giggle a little.

  
  


“You ok?” You asked, still smiling, looking to your side and up at Skull. You were concerned... He hadn’t left the shade this whole time. Not even to get food.

  
  


He gave a small affirmative hum, still staring at the view.

  
  


“... Do you not like swimming?” You softened your voice a little, tilting your head.

  
  


... Head shake.

  
  


“How come?”

  
  


...

  
  


The classic long pause as he gathered his mental info. His voice was softer than normal, too.

  
  


“don’t... tell them.”

  
  


“... Red and Sans?” You inferred.

A simple nod.

  
  


“... Ok. Promise.” You shuffled a little closer to him- his soft voice was almost inaudible over the shouts of humans and monsters, the caws of birds and the rushing of the waves nearby.

  
  


“... there was... a monster.” He said. He shut his socket, slower mind clearly straining to put the words together. Every word sounded like he was reciting a difficult formula from memory, and his brows furrowed together the tiniest amount whenever he came across one more than a few syllables long. “... lived... in waterfall. i picked a fight. wanted...”

  
  


...

  
  


“... wanted... a good rep. to protect my bro. thought... if... i killed it... i’d... yeah.”

  
  


He breathed out, opening his eye again.

  
  


That was the most words he’d ever said to you in one sitting. You reached out, carefully, and rubbed his arm, proud of him for being able to say so much at once.

  
  


“... What happened?”

  
  


“...”

  
  


His eyelight moved away. It shrank a little as his mind began to sink into a memory.

  
  


“... almost drowned me.” He said, soft.

  
  


“... Skull...” You breathed, heart immediately bleeding. You felt so sorry for him... he was so hurt and traumatised from wherever he’d been and whatever he’d done...

  
  


“... It’s okay.” You rubbed your thumb over his shoulder, careful not to wipe sea water all over his clean, dry clothes. “I won’t tell them. I’ll just sit with you instead, okay?”

  
  


...

  
  


He didn’t look back at you, but his eyelight dilated a little in his socket.

  
  


You relaxed.

  
  


...

  
  


And when you relaxed, you started to think.

  
  


Skull said Waterfall, right? Your brow furrowed, even as you kept gently stroking Skull’s shoulder, watching Sans and Red continue to battle to the apparent death in the water. You didn’t know any evil, dangerous monsters from Waterfall. If anything, Sans seemed to imply the only dangerous people from Waterfall were Undyne and the small blob guy who would pay you to step on his face. They were hardly...

  
  


... Murderous.

  
  


And certainly not murderous enough to try and drown someone like Skull. Was this pre or post him getting his injury? Either way, who would want to kill him? And wouldn’t Sans have told you about a monster who tried to murder his cousin?

  
  


It didn’t make any _sense._ You couldn’t rationalise it in your mind.

  
  


You pursed your lips... It felt like Sans and Skull talked about two entirely different Undergrounds.

  
  


... You’d have to do some investigating when you got home.


	12. A lie never lasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get quite close in the night.

_they're the only person who’s ever happy to see me._

  
  


The trip from the beach to the campsite was less than ten minutes by car, and the only issue seemed to be that there was sand all over the seats from various butts that’d been on the ground. Everyone had changed and washed at the local mini-showers for tourists and the like, but sand somehow _still_ wove it’s way into _everything._

Skull didn’t seem to care that you had wet hair and smelled of salt and suncream- he was apparently just happy to have you back in his lap again. By the time you got to the actual campsite (it was probably so close to the beach for a reason), the sun was sinking below the horizon, and your muscles pleasantly ached from spending so much time out and about, doing something you genuinely enjoyed with people you really liked.

  
  


You stepped out the car after Undyne pulled up next to your reserved camping spot, happy to stretch your legs, ready to just get the tents out and sleep, then go home in the morning. Undyne got out too and headed to the back of her vehicle, opening the trunk.

  
  


...

  
  


“Would you look at that.” Undyne said, with a grin, pulling two bags out, raising her brows. One of them was a thick sausage shape, and the other was a large disc in a white zipped package, about half your height. “Looks like we only have two tents.”

  
  


... You narrowed your eyes at her... _suspiciously_ happy tone.

  
  


“There are six of us, and you only thought to bring two tents?” You asked.

  
  


“What a shame.” She chuckled, a slightly evil sound, tossing the thick sausage one over to your side. Red caught it with a heavy _whumpf_ sound, groaning and rolling his shoulder with an audible crack after _another_ car ride.

  
  


“So.” She continued. “We’ll have to split the tents, since there’s only two.” You gave her a ‘you fucking kidding me’ look at her increasing giddiness. Yeah, this ain’t it chief. “Who wants t-”

  
  


_Flump._

  
  


... Your scowling face fell away in surprise. Sans had grabbed your hand tightly, Red had leant over to rest his shoulder against yours (still holding the sausage tent bag), and Skull, ever the hugger, wound his giant arms tightly around your middle.

  
  


“... W-well.” Alphys stammered, grinning. “I-I think that settles it.”

  
  


“Wait,” you said, looking around, “but I didn’t get a-”

  
  


“Better start setting up your tents, nerds.” Undyne cackled, opening her disc bag. Immediately, it sprung open, fast enough to make you flinch back and blink in shock as it was revealed to be a _pop up tent._ What the fuck? Why didn’t you guys get a pop-up? That looked so easy to put up! All Undyne had to do was lay out a ground sheet and give the corners some pegs!

  
  


“That’s unfair. How come you two get the easiest tent?” You asked, as Sans stopped hogging your left arm to go start on your tent.

  
  


“Because these pop up ones are tiny.” Undyne replied, kneeling down and just using her fist to hammer in the nail that Alphys placed so precisely.

  
  


“A-all four of you p-probably wouldn’t fit into a pop up.” The little lizard added, clutching the tent pegs in such a cute way that it was pretty hard to be mad at her. Red gave your upper arm a little squeeze, and shuffled away to help Sans.

  
  


You went to move to help.

  
  


...

  
  


“... Skull.”

  
  


Silence.

  
  


“Skull, buddy, I need to go help.”

  
  


He hugged tighter.

  
  


... You sighed, patting his arm. After your little conversation earlier, he’d been... especially physical. You weren’t sure what he liked so much about you in particular but whatever drove him to want to be close before was now increased tenfold.

  
  


“it’s ok, sweetheart.” Red said, his voice full of mirth, and you scowled a little, trying to turn around to look at him. “we’re big boys, we can manage. skull’s in a funny mood.”

  
  


... You relaxed a bit. You wanted to help out, but... Skull refused to move, and the others said it was okay. Maybe he just needed a second. “Thanks, Red.”

  
  


“although i might need a lil’ reward la- ow!” _“zip it,_ cranberry.”

  
  


You very distinctly heard Alphys giggling from behind her hand.

  
  


\---

  
  


Eventually, you managed to convince Skull to let you go. By that time the tents were already all up and Sans had grabbed everyone’s sleeping bags from the back of the truck- you parted ways with your two snickery, weird-acting female friends after a quick group pre-packed dinner of sandwiches and hot tea in a flask.

  
  


One of the best meals you ever had.

  
  


You thought, heading into the tent, that you’d be slightly nervous. You hadn’t been camping in forever... much less sleeping in a small, enclosed area with two large men you’d only known for just over a month and one medium one you had a giant crush on. Some part of you was telling yourself you almost _should_ be nervous, and that anyone else in this situation would be, but...

  
  


... You just... couldn’t _not_ feel safe with them. You looked around at your buddies, all unpacking, Skull stooped and Red leaning a little, laying out their bags... and all you could do was smile, something in your chest warm and happy.

  
  


“Hey, hey, wait.” You said, probably sounding suspiciously calm and happy. “Gimme your bags.”

  
  


You unzipped your sleeping bag, along with Skull, Sans and Red’s, tent fabric smooth under your knees. They watched in mild confusion... but you knew what you were doing. You’d learnt this from a friend when she talked about having a problem at another camping trip where they misjudged how many beds to bring.

  
  


You zipped one side of an open sleeping bag to another, effectively creating a giant, single blanket. With the size of the sleeping bag Undyne had gotten for Skull (probably one of those Monster Size Edition brands) it was easily enough to provide space for the four of you to lie down next to each other. Even more so for you and Sans, the tiny things that you were- you’d have to stretch your arms above your head and point your toes as far as they could go to even have a chance at touching the floor of the tent.

  
  


Then you did a similar thing with the other two sleeping bags... and boom! A bed and a duvet. You turned to them, grinning.

  
  


... They were all grinning back at you.

  
  


“i’ll go on the far end.” Red opted, putting a hand up lazily like he was volunteering to make everyone coffee. He looked good, in his same tight shirt and borrowed pj pants. “otherwise we’d end up in a fight t’ the death.”

  
  


You giggled, but gave him an appreciative smile. He winked back... it seemed like, out of the three of them, Red was the most mature about who he was and wasn’t next to.

  
  


You appreciated that.

  
  


So you snuggled into your ‘bed’ rolled on your side. Next to you on the end was Skull, lying on his back and staring at the nylon roof above him, probably deep in his mind. On your other side was your buddy Sans, rolled in the same direction as you, your back to him. And on the very end was Red- you couldn’t see him, but you figured he was probably lying on his back too.

  
  


Surrounded by your large, strong skeleton buddies, sleep, warmth and a feeling of complete safety came quickly.

  
  


\---

  
  


...

  
  


You woke up, gently, in the middle of the night.

  
  


It was pitch black at first, when your eyes opened... You couldn’t see a thing in the dead, dark after hours. For a moment, you were confused. Where was your wall? Your glowing alarm clock? Where was the distinct lines and sections of ceiling you knew so well?

  
  


...

  
  


Then, gradually, like someone turning up the brightness on a phone, your eyes began to adjust to your surroundings. The tent above you, the lining on the nylon... then the very, _very_ gentle moonlight seeping through in and around you. Your ears, too, began to pick stuff up... quiet rustling of grass outside the safety of the thin layer of nylon.

  
  


And beside you, a familiar red glow, partially blocked by a looming silhouette

  
  


“... Skull?” You asked, soft. He was turned away, his back to you... Although his head cocked a little to signal he’d heard you.

  
  


...Why was he awake? What time was it? You rubbed your eye with the heel of your palm, brain still foggy. “... Can’t sleep?”

  
  


“... mm.” He hummed, in reply. Your heart melted more... did he have sleeping problems too? Poor guy...

  
  


Then, before you could say anything else, his massive body shifted, sheet covering you moving and bunching as he turned. It sounded so _loud_ in the dark and quiet of a tent, every sound magnified in your attuned ears. He’d only rolled to face you instead, but it was like the whole world had been rocked.

  
  


God, he was just... so _massive._ Lying on your side like this, looking up into his eye that stared so unblinkingly at you... he encompassed you completely. Even just his shoulder width... almost double your own. He seemed like... some kind of huge bear, lying there peacefully, mollified, watching, allowing you to be this close to him.

  
  


It was... heart-stopping.

  
  


You couldn’t help it. Your hand crept up, and a finger delicately traced his massive jaw. His socket lidded in response to the contact, chest expanding with one huge breath, eyelight relaxing... like slowly releasing a rubber band, instead of snapping it and watching it fly.

  
  


“... can you sing?” He rumbled, socket opening just an inch wider. His deep voice was barely above a whisper. It seemed to reverberate around the entire tent, and yet... only passed between the two of you.

  
  


The question made you blink, some of the sleepiness slipping away. You took your hand from his jaw.

  
  


“... H... huh?”

  
  


He continued to stare, iris wide and relaxed, waiting for his answer. He... he knew you could sing, he’d heard you before? You were certain that when he’d been waiting outside the bathroom a month ago, he must’ve heard you.

  
  


... So... that must mean...

  
  


“... You... want me to sing for you?”

  
  


“...”

  
  


His gaze told you everything.

  
  


... I mean... You relaxed a little. It was just the two of you awake, right? And if you kept quiet, you wouldn’t wake anyone up.

  
  


It was only Skull.

  
  


“... Anything in particular?” You asked.

  
  


He shook his head. He just wanted to hear you sing.

  
  


...

  
  


Still slightly embarrassed, you took a moment to think of something, staring at the pillow a few centimetres from your eyes. You weren’t sure why you picked the song you picked in particular, but you just remembered it had a sweet tune, and right now a sweet tune was exactly what he needed.

  
  


_“... Are you going to Scarborough fair?”_ You sang, as softly as possible, looking back at him. It’d been so long since you sang _to_ someone.Your voice almost cracked as you attempted to keep it quiet. _“Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme...”_

  
  


He relaxed immediately, socket shutting completely.

  
  


_“Remember me to the one who lives there... he once was a true love of mine.”_

  
  


His breathing slowed.

  
  


_“Tell him to find me an acre of land._

  
  


_Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme..._

  
  


_... Betwixt the salt water and the sea strand,_

  
  


_He once was a true love of mine._

  
  


_Tell him to plough it with a ram’s horn,_

  
  


_Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme..._

  
  


_... And sow it all over with one peppercorn,_

  
  


_He once was a true love of mine._

  
  


_Tell him t’ reap it with a sickle of leather,_

  
  


_Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme..._

  
  


_... And bind it all up in a peacock’s feather._

  
  


_He once was a true love of mine.”_

  
  


Skull was fast asleep. He had such a calm expression on his usually tight features... face soft and relaxed, empty socket drooped and lidded, working one shut as he fell into a dreamless slumber.

  
  


Carefully, you pulled the cover back over your shoulder and snuggled into the pillow, sleep reclaiming you quickly.

  
  


\---

  
  


Sans moved, unconscious, the disgusting smell of rival powerful monsters fouling his mood and making a crease form between his brows. The vile, sharp tang of blood nearby... He moved away from the nauseating hot thistles so _close_ to him and turned on his side...

  
  


...

  
  


... Another smell. His nasal ridge twitched.

  
  


... A good smell. Familiar. Sweet... Rosemary. _mine._ Like delicious herbs and home cooked meals. His face relaxed, and a hand reached out and found something soft. Squishy. _Warm._

  
  


Instinctively, he cuddled closer to it. The unpleasant stench became weaker the closer he was to it. So warm and soft... So good... And his Soul felt so relaxed...

  
  


... He quickly fell back asleep.

  
  


\---

  
  


You dreamt of something far away from you, something confused and alone, dragged from its home and left stranded in a foreign time and place, not where it should be. It wasn’t Sans, it wasn’t Skull, it wasn’t Red, but it hummed so much like how they hummed and it felt so much like how they felt and cried out so _brokenly and sadly_ that you couldn’t help but reach out, into the dark, calling.

  
  


It felt like Red. It felt like Red, but... different. Scarred.

  
  


_“It’s gonna be okay.”_ You told it. It _had_ to be Sans or Red, it felt so much like them. _“Please. Trust me. It’s gonna be okay. Don’t cry.”_

  
  


It pulsed.

  
  


It felt you.

  
  


On the tip of your tongue, you could taste...

  
  


... _Smoke, and rain on a street...?_

  
  


Two piercing red eyelights stared at you from the darkness.

  
  


_“who are you?”_

  
  


...

  
  


Your eyes snapped open, light filtering through the tent fabric above you. Immediately the dream slipped from your mind and although you tried to drag it back to yourself all you could see was the dark that’d swallowed you, feel the sadness, and two burning... burning... burning _what?_ GAH!

  
  


You scowled, blinking, blinking a hand up to wipe your eyes. Well... it was probably nothing. A dumb ass dream making you panic and...

  
  


...

  
  


You lifted your head up a little.

  
  


You were _smothered_ by skeletons.

  
  


Skull was cuddling you on one side, your head propped on his arm instead of a pillow, his mouth just inches from your cheek. One phalange was subconsciously playing with a tiny strand of hair... twitching, occasionally moving in a little circle and feeling the softness.

  
  


On your opposite side was Red. He wasn’t quite as close as Skull but you quickly noted that the leg firmly wrapped around one of yours was, in fact, his. His face instead was pressed right against your shoulder, little grin on his face clueing you to the fact that he either was 100% not in this position by accident or even in his _sleep_ enjoyed doing bad things.

  
  


... But neither of them were anywhere near as close as Sans.

  
  


No.

  
  


Sans was _lying on you,_ with his _face right on your chest._

  
  


I mean, it was an awkward position and he'd clearly sleep-wriggled his way up there, but he was still planted firmly, head turned to the side, obviously enjoying the mysterious softness he’d found in his sleep.

  
  


...

  
  


It took you a few seconds for your brain to catch up.

  
  


But it caught up, alright.

  
  


You felt your eyes widen and entire face flushing a _brilliant_ shade of crimson... _and not in a bad way._ You were _mortified_ by the fact that despite your roommate sleeping _on your body_ without permission, you were 100% enjoying the feeling of being cuddled on all sides like this. You felt protected, you felt snuggled, you felt _loved._

  
  


OhmyGod what would Sans think of you just taking advantage of him liking to cuddle stuff in his sleep like this?? And totally enjoying it? Hell, for a split second, you considered just going back to sleep and letting this happen! You swallowed, covering your mouth, hoping and praying the rapid thudding of your heart wasn’t loud enough to wake him.

  
  


You had to somehow extract yourself.

  
  


Getting out from Red was easy- he was just the legs, after all. And he seemed less insistent to stay attached than the other two. All that took was a little bit of shuffling and kicking, and a tiny grumble on his part, but no waking- thank fuck. You let yourself breathe... even though Red was the least of your troubles because he was a complete _fiend_ and wouldn’t judge you for ending up like this.

  
  


Skull was a lot more difficult... in theory, he should’ve been the easiest, because all he had was a massive arm supporting the back of your head. But, unlike Red, he was absolutely _determined_ to not let go of you. Moving your head off his arm did nothing but as you shuffled away, trying to slip out from under Sans, _both_ Skull’s arms wrapped around your shoulder and neck area stubbornly, with a tiny (adorable????) grumble/growl in the back of his throat, dragging you so close his face touched your cheek.

Again, not a problem, really... Skull loved cuddling you. If he woke up like this he’d probably just instantly shut his socket again, the big goof.

  
  


You moved his arm off you slowly, pushing it to his chest, why the _fuck_ was he so heavy? You lifted your head up and, in a moment of sudden realisation, quickly dragged your pillow against his chest between the arms- success. He pulled the pillow to him and snuggled into it, making another tiny grumbly sound.

  
  


Sans? You just rolled to the side a little. He slipped off no problem, lying in a slightly awkward belly-down position on the sleeping bag mattress. His hand came out and groped at your tummy, gathering a handful of pyjama shirt, but you pried it off and sat up.

  
  


Phew. You sighed, relaxing a bit, some of the pink fading from your hot face. That was an awkward extraction proce-

  
  


_Flump._

  
  


You squeaked, very quietly, as someone grabbed you from behind and pulled you back down, two heavy arms wrapping around your middle and pressing your back very snugly into his chest.

  
  


_“R-Red!”_ You said, exasperated, not really expecting a reply, assuming he was still asleep.

  
  


“mm... the others got a snuggle. why don’t i?”

  
  


...

  
  


“... OhmyGodyou’reawake.”

  
  


“been awake the whole time, sweetheart.” A yawn. You couldn’t breathe, you were so embarrassed. _Lord in Heaven, strike me down right now..._ “was pretty funny watchin’ blue get awful acquainted with your...”

  
  


“Don’t say it.” You hissed, possibly about to explode. “Don’t you dare say it.”

  
  


... He chuckled, smooth, silky, patting your hip.

  
  


“mmkay. i didn’t see nuthin’.”

  
  


You sighed, trying to cool your overheating face. Red wouldn’t judge you for that. Tease, definitely, but not judge.

  
  


...

  
  


You thought about the previous day, and the comment Skull had made that piqued your attention so much.

  
  


...

  
  


“... Hey, Red?”

  
  


“mhm?” He responded, in a tone you were pretty sure is what would happen if honey and melted chocolate had a lovechild, but you brushed it off in favour of your stupid human curiosity.

  
  


“How many places were there, Underground?”

  
  


Maybe, there... were separate areas underground, where different things happened? Like... maybe different sections of a city had different ways of living. Which would explain Skull, Sans and Red’s apparent completely different lives despite growing up in the same place.

  
  


“oh, like...” A small pause. “six. ruins, snowdin, waterfall, hotland, core an’ new home.”

  
  


“What was it like?”

  
  


“not very pleasant, baby.” He hummed, half asleep. “everyone was out ‘ta kill each other. ‘kill or be killed’, that was what our king said. only the strong survived.”

  
  


“Everyone?” You repeated, confusion deepening with every word he said. “Absolutely everyone?”

  
  


“mhm. rich, poor, hotland, waterfall...” Another giant yawn that actually made _you_ start yawning too, despite your confusion. “nobody could trust anybody. dog-eat-dog, nasty shit.”

  
  


“... That sounds horrible.” You muttered, gentle, completely truthfully.

  
  


“s’alright.” He cuddled closer. “now i’m here with you instead.”

  
  


“... Yeah.” You smiled, patting his hand, mulling the info over in your head.

  
  


This warranted real investigation.

  
  


\---

  
  


As soon as you were home and into fresh clothes, you got to work, opening your laptop and writing down everything you knew.

  
  


You were sure you wouldn’t get any information out of Skull that would be enough to draw a proper conclusion about his life in the Underground- the guy could barely form a coherent sentence without stopping every few seconds to gather himself. You weren’t going to put him through the stress of explaining his _entire childhood,_ even if he DID remember it.

  
  


Sans had already explained the Underground to you before, back before the guys arrived. It’d been a little (slightly drunk) tv-watching session that ended up being both of you spilling your life history to each other, your head on his lap. You distinctly remember him talking about how, despite the situation and despite the entrapment, everyone helped each other, and everyone still had hope. Everyone still attempted to function as a regular, healthy, happy society.

  
  


Just with the ever-looming prospect of never escaping their rocky prison, and their children never seeing the real sky.

  
  


You _also_ remembered the feeling of his phalanges on your cheek, asking if the pink flush was alcohol, or because you were too hot...

  
  


... You shook your head, blinking, a crease forming between your brows. This was no time for pining about romance! This was for discovering the _truth._

  
  


A quick internet search told you there wasn’t more than one Underground. You kept looking, reading articles, news stories, spilling over old hastily-written tabloids from the day the monsters surfaced... Red and Sans milled past you, chuckling at how apparently concentrated you were on something...

  
  


... No. Nothing. No evidence to suggest more than one Underground. And yet they talked about it like it was two entirely different worlds? You leant back in your seat, heart starting to thump a little.

  
  


Had they _lied_ to you?

  
  


About all this? About being cousins, about who they really were?

  
  


Sans had also spoken to you about skeletons... he’d shown you an old book he’d taken with him when he moved from the Underground to the surface that was full of skeleton diagrams, and told you all about how skeletons used to be quite plentiful before humans killed everyone but his parents. His dad, after his wife died and he failed to sire any female children, wrote this book to record what he remembered of his people so they wouldn’t be forgotten. They all looked so different... some with high cheekbones, some with tiny sockets, some with straight teeth and some with none. It was _really_ old... large, leather-bound, with yellowed and stained pages, all handwritten with odd symbols you’d never seen before. Sans had to read everything to you.

  
  


And now that you’d thought back on it, rubbing your forehead to pick up the memories... it seemed so strange that Sans, Skull and Red would all look exactly the same, given the sheer variety you’d seen in the well-drawn diagrams in that old book.

  
  


...

  
  


You bit your lip, looking up, fingers flying over the keys, throat becoming tight.

  
  


**_Monster type classification list_ **

  
  


There, at the top of the search results list, was the link to the complete document that listed every monster who came out of the Underground, what body category they belonged to, and their registered abilities. It had been the government’s attempt to calm the crowds about the ‘devils that were emerging from hell’ by providing a definitive list of what they could and couldn’t do.

  
  


...

  
  


_Click._

  
  


You scrolled through hundreds of categories, right to the bottom. Above slimes, below shells.

  
  


**_Skeletons._ **

  
  


...

  
  


_Click._

  
  


...

  
  


Only two names.

  
  


You didn’t even need to read them.

  
  


You shut your laptop immediately and got up, marching over to the kitchen, where Sans was standing by the toaster, waiting for it to pop, his back to you. His shirt was inside-out _and_ back-to-front. More importantly- Skull and Red weren’t in the room.

  
  


“Sans?”

  
  


“mhm?” He hummed, not turning around.

  
  


“Is it true that skeletons are a rare monster species?” You made sure to keep your voice sweet, calm and curious.

  
  


“yep.”

  
  


“It’s just you and Papyrus, right?”

  
  


“mhm.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


The toast popped. His face fell like mercury on a cold day.

  
  


“w-wait-”

  
  


“I knew it!” You slammed your laptop down onto the counter, probably a little too hard, and pointed at him, taking a step back. _You got him!_ “Something does _not_ add up, here!”

  
  


“no, wait,” he turned around, sockets wide, eyelights tiny, grin _completely gone._ “it’s not-”

  
  


“There’s only one Underground, and yet all three of you talk about it like it’s a completely different place!” You continued. When he took a step toward you, you took another step back. “Only two known skeletons, and yet there are three of you here, and you _all_ have brothers!? That’s _six!”_

  
  


“k-kiddo, it’s...”

  
  


“And _none_ of what you told me about skeletons makes sense to this! If all skeletons have different skull shapes and different pelvis wideness, why do the three of you look EXACTLY THE SAME? It’s like you’re the same person!”

  
  


“...”

  
  


...

  
  


_He didn't disagree._

  
  


You were about to shout, but... he was suddenly inches away from you, and his hand _pressed over your mouth._ You jumped and reached up to pull it away, shocked by his immediate closeness, but he had a tight grip.

  
  


“look, i...” You relaxed a little when he didn’t sound malicious- only nervous. He was sweating. “i’ll explain everything. just... please calm down.”

  
  


... You nodded, mind firing.

  
  


He led you to the table and sat you down, heading off for a second. You stayed in your seat, heart pumping faster at the prospect of finding out what was going on... so they _weren’t_ cousins? What _were_ they? And Sans didn’t disagree when you said they could be the same person... Were...

  
  


... Were they _actually all the same person?_

  
  


Your head was swimming by the time Sans came back with a silent Skull- and a Red sporting a giant grin. They sat opposite you, Sans next to you.

  
  


“figured out we ain’t cousins, huh?” Red asked, and... he sounded _proud._ Why did that make you flush? “knew it. blue’s bullshit story wouldn’t fool anyone.”

  
  


“shut it.” Sans growled across the table. You interrupted by turning to him, eyes narrowed, waiting for your explanation and trying not to look as nervous as you felt.

  
  


... He cleared his throat, flushing light blue, and pulled a piece of paper out.

  
  


“... so...” He drew a long, straight line, right across the page. ... Where did he get that pen...? “this here is the entire timespan of our universe. right here, from the big bang,” he gestured to the very start with his pen, “to now. our timeline.”

  
  


“... Okay.” You weren’t sure what that had to do with anything, but sure.

  
  


“timelines are never straight and time isn’t linear but i’m gonna simplify it because this is a few thousand years of monster research being summed up in one sitting. there are infinite numbers of timelines being created every single moment by choices we make. someone moves left instead of right? timeline. ant stops for a second to look around? timeline. king decides to wage war on a country? timeline.”

  
  


You nodded along.

  
  


“some timelines are completely identical to ours, save for one miniscule, unnoticeable detail. some are so different you wouldn’t ever recognise them. now... somewhere along here...” he circled an area “is when the monsters were put underground, up until when they came out again.” He was really getting into this. “at this point, some people made some very pivotal decisions, and this happened.”

  
  


From the circled area, he made two lines bank off and continue in different directions off the page.

  
  


...

  
  


“what my machine did, was...”

  
  


... He paused, looking away, apparently unused to actually telling anyone what happened.Red interrupted when Sans didn’t continue, happy to pick up where he left off.

  
  


“it pulled other versions of him from different timelines ‘an brought ‘em here. case and point-” he leant back in his chair, “yours truly.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


  
  


Red and Skull were Sans.

  
  


...

  
  


_Red and Skull were Sans._

  
  


“... i get it if you don’t believe us, b-”

  
  


_“Oh my God!!”_ You sat up, practically shouting. “This makes _so much sense!”_

  
  


...

  
  


“what?” Sans blinked.

  
  


“The fighting, the hate, the sudden appearance in the bedroom without using the door...!” Your wide eyes darted over the paper, pieces suddenly falling into place by the hundreds. A small part of you felt like you might be being pranked, or that you should take this with a grain of salt considering they were basically affirming theories that human scientists had been looking into for hundreds of years, but...

  
  


It just made _so much sense!_

  
  


“Looking like each other, _talking_ like each other, all that shit about the Underground, calling each other by your magic colours instead of your names! It all matches up!” You felt like jumping in the air. It was amazing- finally understanding.

  
  


... Skull chuckled a little.

  
  


“But wait..” You looked up at the two of them sat across from you, shoulders dropping a little... Versions of your roommate from _another universe._ “What about your timelines? Aren’t people missing you...?”

  
  


“nah, nah, don’t worry.” Red waved it away, sitting forward a bit more. “it’s like... well. it’s not like ours have frozen. it’s more like... because time isn’t linear, and somethin’ that’s supposed to be there has been taken away, the cycle has been interrupted. the timeline won’t continue until we’re back.”

  
  


“it’s why they aren’t panicking constantly about their brothers.” Sans pointed out, nudging you. “we have all the time in the world to get them back.”

  
  


“It’s... incredible.” You sank into the seat.

  
  


...

  
  


Then turned to Sans, a scowl fixing. He flinched, sitting bolt upright, another drop of sweat beating on his skull.

  
“So now is when you explain why you _didn’t tell me any of this.”_


	13. Just you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more to Red than his flirty bravado persona.

_these feelings ain’t nothin’ more than sexual desire. i know myself. i know how i feel about people. i’m just...  
... i’m just nervous about losin’ the opportunity to bang them. nothing more. _

  
  


...

  
  


Alternate universes were _real._

  
  


You thought about it all night long, the possibilities this seemed to infer making your brain go haywire.

  
  


_Alternate universes were real._

  
  


Somewhere out there, through the timelines... there were infinite numbers of you. You were slightly ashamed to admit to yourself that, instead of science or the probabilities or the yous that got everything they ever wanted... instead of thinking about timelines where you died, you lived to a hundred years old, you weren’t even _born..._ your first and immediate thought was _Is there a me out there who’s dating Sans?_

  
  


That made you flush, groan, and roll over.

  
  


_Is there a me out there who isn’t being friendzoned?_

  
  


And well, speaking of Sans... He’d explained he didn’t tell you about it because, for one, it was a hell of a lot of information to give to a human, and two, the guys _weren’t_ supposed to have been dragged through in the first place. He’d been hoping to ‘get rid of them’ as soon as possible, without having to reveal anything important to you.

  
  


... You were a _little_ mad, but his reasoning seemed okay enough. Plus you were too mindblown to really focus on anything.

  
  


You laid in bed the next morning, still mulling it over, duvet tucked over your shoulders. There were human scientists out there who would _die_ for the knowledge you had. People who’d spent their entire _lives_ studying string theory and relativity... people with brains and smarts far beyond what you could even dream of... people who, once they found out what either of them knew, would kill for an hour alone with Sans or Red.

  
  


And here you were. A quietly determined human just managing to get by... living with magic skeletons from other universes.

  
  


What were the chances?

  
  


Eventually, you got up, stretching and letting your joints pop, pretty well-rested. The corners of the window on the outside layer of glazing were slightly frosted over... It was getting much, much colder now that you were in December. It almost felt strange to be back somewhere cold after your trip to that warm, lovely beach...

  
  


Speaking of which... Your face fell. It was Sunday... your last relaxation day before work started again tomorrow. The very thought made you cringe slightly... your weird boss, the conga line of prissy customers treating you like a sub-human simply because your old work computer wouldn’t load the calendar for bookings fast enough, people _asking you to go make them a coffee while they waited_ (did you miss someone putting the ‘coffee maker’ addition next to your receptionist sign or something??).

  
  


You sighed, deciding nobody would care if you walked around in your pyjama pants inside the apartment. You chucked on a shirt, at least, but that was it for fresh clothes.

  
  


Sans was rubbing off on you.

  
  


You walked into the living room, half expecting Skull to be the only one awake at 11am, but... all three of them were up. Red having another crack at Knights of Cydonia, Skull staring at a spot on the floor, and Sans lying on his back with a joke book over his face.

  
  


Pft... all of them wearing pj pants.

  
  


Now that you knew they were literally the same person, you could clearly see the behavioural similarities that you’d previously written off as in their DNA or something. The laziness, the science smarts, and that competitive streak none of them want to admit is in there.

  
  


... Skull’s eyelight darted up to you and shrank... and Red missed four notes in a row, turning to look at you in what seemed like shock.

  
  


...

  
  


“Morning...?” You said.

  
  


“... uuuhhhhhhhhhhh...” Was Red going... _red?!_ His sockets widened considerably and his mouth opened.

  
  


“...What?” You asked, suddenly nervous. What was going on?

  
  


Skull made a choked, tight wheezing sound. You looked at him- _he was blushing!_ SKULL was BLUSHING!? It was blue, just like Sans’s, and travelled all up his cheekbones even to the sides of his head.

  
  


Then he slapped a hand over his nasal cavity, and ran from the room.

  
  


...

  
  


You looked, slightly panicked, at Sans, the only person who didn’t seem to be reacting in any way. He’d taken the book off his face and was staring at where Skull had ran off.

  
  


...

  
  


He looked back at you.

  
  


...

  
  


Then his face cracked in realisation.

  
  


“... oh. OH!”

  
  


He jumped off the couch and rushed over to you, grabbing your upper arm gently and leading you out of the room into the corridor.

  
  


“What? What?!” You asked, patting yourself all over with your free hand. “Have I got something on me?”

  
  


“uh... not exactly.” He said, smile in a tight line.

  
  


“Sans,” you turned to him fully, stopping and pulling your arm out his grip. “What’s going on?”

  
  


... He looked like he was gonna say something but his eyelights quickly darted away, and he rubbed the back of his skull.

  
  


“It’s... uh, how do i put this...” A pause, as his hand travelled down to the back of his neck instead. “... it sounds pretty creepy.”

  
  


...

  
  


You narrowed your eyes.

  
  


“Tell me.”

  
  


“uh, well... it’s... you’re...” Now HE was blushing. He squeezed his sockets shut tight, the words falling out in a jumbled mess.

  
  


“... y-you’reinheat.”

  
  


“... What.” What.

  
  


“monsters...” He sounded like he was trying to force his words out, hands now coming down to his chest to fidget. “... since we’re fertile so rarely we can smell when someone’s in heat. you’re a human, the smell is amplified even though it’s monthly.”

  
  


“Ampli- wait, _heat?”_ What the fuck. Your brows creased... This was all so... “Like a _dog?”_

  
  


... Sans... cringed.

  
  


Uh oh. Your face fell, and you suddenly felt really bad for saying something like _that_ so loudly and disgustedly. “... Sorry. So... you guys can smell my... hormones?”

  
  


“yeah.” He nodded, eager to change the subject from the kinda racist remark you’d just made.

  
  


“Why aren’t you affected?” You leant against the wall. The other two had looked at you like you’d just walked in the room completely naked.

  
  


He chuckled. “i’m used to it happening every month.”

  
  


That made sense. You’d never seen him get blushy around you. You were also pretty relieved it was something uncontrollable like hormonal cycles that made everyone freak out- for a moment, when both skeletons had frozen up and stared, you were worried your nipple was showing or something.

  
  


“... How different do I smell?” You asked, tilting your head a little.

  
  


Sans thought for a moment, pursing his ‘lips’ over his teeth and looking away. “it’s... stronger, and sweeter. _really_ sweet. uh...” He shut his sockets, concentrating. “... dizzying? but in a good way. like...” He shook his head and opened his eyes again. “mmh, it’s hard to describe.”

  
  


... Huh. Well, you kind of understood what he meant. “Is there anything I can do about it?”

  
  


“not really.” He shrugged. “they’ll just be acting kind of weird and spacey until it stops in a few days. sorry.”

  
  


You waved it away, smiling. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I mean, they won’t do anything other than act slightly blushy, right?”

  
  


... Sans grinned too, but... he didn’t look quite so sure.

  
  


“right.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Monday morning left you staring at your beeping alarm clock with a growing sense of post-weekend depression and fury. Not only was it the start of the work week, but it was also _really cold today._ Your phone said it was 7c/44f outside... thank God you were in a decent apartment with decent heating in the morning, at least. The warmth from the room below you seeped through the flooring- not to mention Sans had done something funky to the heating system a while back that left it toasty warm.

  
  


Too bad you, y’know... had to go _outside_ at some point.

  
  


You pulled on your work clothes, grumbling to yourself with every movement. You tripped over the pj pants you left on the floor when your feet got tangled in them and kicked them across the room- well, tried to. You just ended up kicking your bed, _really_ hurting your toe... enough to make you shout in frustration.

  
  


_Today is just gonna be GREAT._

  
  


Breakfast was some half-assed cereal that you ate at the counter while you waited for the coffee to brew because you were NOT in the mood to try and make anything more than milk and flakes. Honestly, if you _did_ try, knowing your luck streak today, something would go wrong and probably set on fire. As soon as the coffee was done, you chucked your bowl in the sink and downed the drink probably a bit too fast, cringing, but not really caring about your stupid taste buds and whether or not they’d be burnt to a crisp.

  
  


You needed this coffee before you left or you wouldn’t be able to tolerate your boss long enough to not stab him with a pair of scissors, or beat him to death with one of your heavy name files the next time he called you ‘sweetheart’.

  
  


Gh... Why couldn’t all older men say ‘sweetheart’ like how Red said it? The perfect mix of casual, sexy and endearing, but not too much of either to be patronising...

  
  


_Hic!_

  
  


You slapped a hand over your chest in momentary surprise- then sighed, annoyed, putting your empty coffee cup down. Of _course_ you had hiccups, your day could only get better, couldn’t it? It was probably going to be stuck with you all day. You grabbed your bag, looping the strap over your shoulder, getting up to...

  
  


... Very loud, very _rushed_ footsteps filled the corridor just outside the door, getting closer by the second. You stopped dead, hand still over the strap, looking over to the kitchen entrance with your eyes narrowed.

  
  


_Thump thump thump thumpthumpthump-_

  
  


_Slam!_

  
  


... Skull appeared in the doorway, almost fell, and regained his footing. His giant chest was heaving like he’d just run a marathon, one hand gripping each side of the door frame, legs a distance apart considering he’d stopped so suddenly. His eye focused on you in a stare but not the kind of staring you were normally used to... his eyelight was... _wobbling...?_

  
  


You stared back for a few moments, confused.

  
  


...

  
  


_Hic!_

  
  


... His eyelight almost _flooded_ his socket, and his entire face flushed that adorable shade of blue you were getting so used to seeing nowadays.

  
  


_“what.”_ He wheezed, deep voice almost cracking. “what was _that?”_

  
  


... Uh... You paused for a moment, confused.

  
  


“... Oh!” You giggled, shaking your head, mood lifting just a little at Skull’s comedic entrance. “Those are just hiccups. It’s my lungs getting confused, it’s nothing to worry about.”

  
  


He rushed into the room, faster than you’d ever seen him move before, and grabbed you by the shoulders. You jolted with wide eyes and tried to stumble back, slapping your hands over his, but he had you in a _really_ firm grip.

  
  


“S-Skull-!?” You stammered.

  
  


_“c-confused lungs.”_ He repeated, his eyelight... practically like a massive star.

  
  


Did... did he find your hiccuping _cute...?_

  
  


“yer lungs are gettin’ _confused?”_ Red’s voice was suddenly behind you. You jumped, and looked over your shoulder- he was blushing too! How long had he been standing behind you!?

  
  


“Uh, yeah.” You started. “It-” _Hic!_

  
  


That one was pretty loud, seeing as your mouth had been open, and it made your whole body bounce randomly. You slapped a hand over your chest again- it seemed to echo around the entire kitchen.

  
  


...

  
  


_“holy shit.”_ Red said, pressing his hands over his mouth.

  
  


“Guys I need to go to wo-”

  
  


“do it again. do it again.” He sounded like an overexcited child.

  
  


“I-I can’t control when I do-” _Hic!_ “-it!”

  
  


Skull made a tiny, almost _squealing_ sound, and pulled you into his chest.

  
  


“SKULL!” You shrieked. How was he so _strong!?_ “Let-” _Hic!_ “go!”

  
  


“s-so angry!” Red almost _cooed._ You felt your whole face flush at the treatment you were getting. “yer whole body moves when you do it, too!”

  
  


“so _cute.”_ Skull _definitely_ cooed, cupping the back of your head with one and and nuzzling the top. Your shoulders bristled and you squawked indignantly, but...

  
  


You weren’t angry. You were _enjoying_ it. Enjoying being treated like a furious _kitten._

  
  


...

  
  


Not that you’d _ever_ admit it to them.

  
  


“L-let g... Red are you _recording!?”_

  
  


“yes.”

  
  


“Stop!” You tried to wiggle out of Skull’s hold. “I g-” _Hic!_

  
  


_“theycouldn’tevenfinishtheirsentence.”_ The words spilled out of Skull’s mouth almost too fast to hear. You would’ve been amazed at just how much he said in one without pausing or tripping over himself but you were getting increasingly aware of how the time was slipping away and, if you didn’t hurry, you’d be late for work.

  
  


“G-guys, seriously, I need to go!” Were they acting weird because of your hormonal changes, or did they just genuinely think hiccuping was _that_ cute? Either way, you _needed_ to escape.

  
  


“... what the hell!?”

  
  


You managed to move your head to the side enough to see Sans, standing in the doorway, probably roused by all the noise. His brows were drawn together, eyelights tiny in shock... The air immediately began to crackle softly against your skin, charged with power...

  
  


... Everyone froze.

  
  


... Skull let go of you as he and Red turned to Sans. You didn’t waste any time waiting for them to finish their dick measuring contest- you scooted out, weaved past Sans and darted to the door, grabbing your shoes and coat (with your hat and scarf stuffed unceremoniously in each pocket) and running out of the apartment in just your work clothes and socked feet.

  
  


_Fuck_ it was cold.

  
  


Worried that one of them might come out of the apartment and accost you with more hugs, cooing sounds and adoring gestures, you dashed down the stairs a floor, careful to watch out for anything sharp like nails or bits of glass... it was only when you got to the bottom, chest heaving a bit (interrupted by a hiccup) that you allowed yourself to pause to put your actual shoes on.

  
  


... _Phew._ You thought, slipping them on and moving your coat over your shoulders, the dark fabric rustling in a way that reminded you of the tent you’d slept in during the weekend. A quick dig in the bulged pockets revealed your hat and scarf, and you put them on too, winding the scarf around your already cold neck.

  
  


_I guess they get... pretty ‘pushy’ when I smell like this._

  
  


You sighed, cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment at the memory.

  
  


_Better watch out for that._

  
  


You’d barely pulled the hat over your still-warming ears when a familiar voice caught your attention, bouncing down the hallway.

  
  


“Oh, hey! (y/n)!”

  
  


...

  
  


You looked up.

  
  


... Oh! Your neighbour! You relaxed, if only a little. You hadn’t seen him since that time you almost ran straight into him while trying to get up to your apartment and stop the guys from fighting. You never seemed to see him when Sans was about, but... whatever.

  
  


He was around your age, a couple of inches taller than Sans, with short dark hair and a stubbly chin and upper lip that (if you ever asked) he would determinedly tell you he was ‘growing out’. Rather lanky in his build, with an almost triangular face... you could never figure out the smell that came off him in the mornings but it was something akin to toothpaste. He was a sweet boy when he was around you, but you’d often heard him yelling at his roommate through the door... the two guys were the worst culprits for noise complaints in the whole complex.

  
  


“Hey Trist.” You smiled, preferring the nickname to his full name ‘Tristian’ because who the _fuck_ calls their kid _Tristian?_ He was just leaving his apartment, decked out in baggy jeans and a big poofy black coat. Unfortunately it made him look extremely top-heavy, what with his stick legs (never skip leg day kids) and tiny feet. You wanted to laugh, but... you kept it to yourself.

  
  


“Where’re you heading?” He asked, voice nowhere near as deep as Sans’s, dark eyes on you. “Work as usual?”

  
  


“Yep.” You sighed, heading down the stairs to the entrance, Trist following behind. “Though I’d much rather be literally _anywhere_ else.”

  
  


“Mood.” He agreed. “I’ve got a double shift at the cafe today because I was ill on Friday, and I _really_ need the extra cash if I’m gonna be able to get rent.”

  
  


“Didn’t you _just_ buy a new set of Switch joycons?”

  
  


“Those are essential for my day-to-day life.” He insisted, as the two of you left the complex. You just shook your head a bit at that- it seemed that every single time you spoke to him, he was only _just_ getting by.

  
  


“So you’re still on your zero-hour contract?” You discovered a pair of fingerless gloves in your pocket that had been squished under the hat, and gratefully slipped them on as your breath escaped you in a little puff of steam.

  
  


He sighed, exaggeratedly. “Best I can do with the qualifications _I’ve_ got. Say- there’s been a _lot_ of noise coming from your apartment.”

  
  


...

  
  


You groaned, rubbing your forehead. _“Fucking..._ I’m _so_ sorry, it’s not keeping you up, is it?”

  
  


He chuckled- a mid-throat sound, pretty unusual to hear after you’d gotten so used to the deep, chest sounds that Sans and his alternate selves made. “No, no, it’s not. I could sleep through a nuclear bombing. Was just wondering who the new voices were.”

  
  


“My roommate’s cousins.” You replied, looking away, hoping you were as good at lying as Sans. “They... don’t get along.”

  
  


“... Monsters too?”

  
  


“Mhm.”

  
  


... Trist’s eyes were caught by a glowing santa lamp in someone’s upstairs window on the street across from the two of you. He hummed to himself, and looked back down at you, raising one bushy, badly-maintained eyebrow.

  
  


“Got anyone anything for Christmas?”

  
  


“Yeah. I sent my parents some stuff.” You stood in amongst the small group of people waiting for the light to turn green at the crossroads.

  
  


“Nooo, I meant like... any _friends?”_

  
  


“Not really. None of the guys celebrate Christmas.” You put a hand on your chin thoughtfully. “I think there was a tradition where they’d give gifts to a monster who lived in the area, but...” You crossed the road, thinking. “... even if part of it _was_ gifting each other, all of them are too lazy to go out and buy someone something. I seriously doubt Sans even _remembered_ it was Christmas.”

  
  


The two of you were approaching the road now where your paths split. You were ready to just head down where you had to go and give a quick goodbye, but... a hand on your shoulder stopped you. You turned and looked up at him, slightly confused...

  
  


“Hey, erm...” ... Were his cheeks red because of the cold? “... I was just... wondering if you wanted to go on a date.”

  
  


... You blinked.

  
  


“I mean,” he continued, pursing his lips a bit. “Probably not tomorrow because you’ll be at work all day, but, like... after, maybe?”

  
  


You tilted your head.

  
  


...

  
  


“Sure.” You answered, with a little shrug. “Just the one. Don’t see why not.”

  
  


You felt kinda bad for Trist that your immediate thought was ‘ _maybe this will make Sans jealous’_ \- a thought you immediately discarded, trying not to frown. You _really_ needed to stop thinking about Sans so much...

  
  


Besides. A single date with another guy couldn’t hurt, right? Trist was a nice guy, you’d known him for a while, and you trusted him. If things didn’t work out or he turned out to be a terrible person you’d have no problem cutting things off with him.

  
  


Trist smiled, apparently surprised with your answer.

  
  


“Just...” You pointed at him. “Nothing crazy, ok? Something casual. Like... a cafe. I can’t do extravagance.”

  
  


“Oh, don’t worry.” He chuckled. “Extravagance isn’t exactly something I can afford.”

  
  


\---

  
  


You cuddled into bed that night, the day not having gone as badly as you thought it would. Of course, your boss was still giving you a hard time about everything while not-so-subtly mixing it with flirting, but you found him just _barely_ tolerable today... especially considering that it was a Monday and that was usually the day you’d be sat at your desk envisioning him dying in hundreds of painful, horrific ways.

  
  


In fact, for a Monday... you slept quite well.

  
  


And then... roughly midway through the night, you woke up slowly, for...

  
  


... No apparent reason.

  
  


For a moment, you just laid there with your eyes shut and allowed the darkness to carry you away again, but... you blinked them open when a familiar red glow just across from your bed caught your hazy attention.

  
  


_Skull?_ You thought, focusing, sleep still heavy on your mind, eyes narrowing a bit. The rest of your body didn’t move an inch. _Why is he..._

  
  


...

  
  


No. It wasn’t that single, enlarged orb at all...

  
  


Not Skull.

  
  


It was two pinpricks that held a faraway, solemn feel, almost covered by lidded sockets.

  
  


...

  
  


Red was sat on the floor just by your bed, his back against the wall, so close that if you reached out right now you could run your fingers over the gold tooth and the slight crack in his mandible it caused. The more the darkness focused, the more you could see his quiet, soft, almost _melancholy_ expression... It seemed so unlike him. One leg tucked up to his chest, the other outstretched along the carpet... You were so used to him always sporting a shit-eating grin or some kind of flirtatious, heated demeanour that something so genuine and _sad_ seemed just...

  
  


... Wrong.

  
  


...

  
  


You watched him for a little while. The confusion at him being in your room came and went, plus a little healthy shock at the privacy invasion, but...

  
  


He just looked so _sad._

  
  


...

  
  


“Red?” You asked, gently.

  
  


He jumped like he’d been _slapped._

  
  


At the sound of your voice, he turned to you, eyelights shrinking into miniscule pinpricks. His mouth opened as he scrabbled a little to sit up straight and a weak, desperate, I-can-explain smile broke out over his features.

  
  


“o-oh!” Sweat beaded on his skull and his eyelights darted around like panicked fish in a bucket. His hands desperately searched for something to grab- settling on his collar. His voice seemed so loud in the place of the previous silence. “h-heeey, sweetheart... uh, this isn’t... i can...”

  
  


For some reason, his panicked demeanour was... Well.

  
  


It was like when you found out something about Skull’s past. It probably should’ve scared another person, but it just... made your heart melt.

  
  


“... What’s wrong?” Was all you said, not turning away from him, voice still soft and quiet.

  
  


...

  
  


At your not-furious, not-hate-filled voice, Red stopped scrabbling quite so hard- but he didn’t answer. He looked away, sweating harder, probably wishing he was anywhere else right now and intensely regretting whatever choices led him to come to your room at 1:39am.

  
  


... You sighed, deciding to treat him like you’d treat Skull.

  
  


“Red.” You said, looking him in the eyelights, even if he wouldn’t look back at you.

  
  


... No response. Harder sweating.

  
  


...

  
  


You untucked your hand from under the covers, and reached over the edge of the bed, onto the floor. The hand that wasn’t fiddling with his collar was clenched slightly in the carpet- you took it, softly rubbing your thumb over each carpal and metacarpal, never once taking your eyes off him.

  
  


... He blinked, and looked down at his hand. It wasn’t quite as large as Skull’s, but...

  
  


Still enough to encompass yours, if he wanted.

  
  


“... Sans. It’s ok.”

  
  


...

  
  


When you said his real name, he... he tensed up, then let out something resembling a tiny chuckle mixed with a cough, eyelights averting further, focusing on something in the dark.

  
  


“h-heh... uh... just red is fine, sweetheart.” He muttered.

  
  


“... Alright.” You acquiesced. Perhaps... he just preferred to be called something that didn’t remind him of his home universe.

  
  


It felt like you were talking to a cricket in the the palm of your hand- he was twitching, frozen, flight and freeze instincts pulling him back and forth ... one wrong move and he’d leap away into a metaphorical thicket of emotional walls. You were so used to Skull opening up to you so quickly... and so _unused_ to seeing Red vulnerable.

  
  


... Perhaps _he_ was unused to seeing himself vulnerable too.

  
  


“... You know I won’t tell anyone.” You said.

  
  


...

  
  


A pause. A long, long pause. You waited, patiently, watching him... watching as his big broad shoulders loosened a little, watching as his sockets lidded a tad, watching as his hand turned under yours to very, _very_ gently hold back.

  
  


“...i...”

  
  


He’d been silent so long that you’d given up on expecting an answer. You opened your eyes a little more, careful to not move too fast.

  
  


...

  
  


He turned his head in your direction but his gaze remained away- on your touching hands.

  
  


“... i get... panic attacks at night.” He said, purring voice barely above a whisper.

  
  


“...” Your heart fell, as did the corners of your brows. Just... just how broken were they all?

  
  


“back in my world, my lil’ bro would snore pretty loud.” You saw the edges of his smile pick up just a little at the memory of his Papyrus. “... the sound coming from his room through the walls would send me back t’ sleep whenever i woke up. blue an’ skull are the same as me... they make no noise when they’re sleeping.”

  
  


“... So...” You prompted, studying his nervous, embarrassed face and wondering what it could be.

  
  


“...” He looked down, cheekbones reddening. “i... i come in here and listen to you breathe for a bit to calm down.”

  
  


...

  
  


“... How many times?” You asked.

  
  


“about five since i arrived.” He admitted, cringing to himself at how creepy that sounded.

  
  


...

  
  


Five...

  
  


...

  
  


You shuffled under the covers, taking your hand from his and moving the duvet up, holding it there.

  
  


“C’mon.” You said, encouragingly. “It’s cold on the floor.”

  
  


His eyelights _finally_ met yours- and when they did, they shrank a little in surprise. He grinned, embarrassed, but definitely relaxing.

  
  


“sweetheart. that’s not a good idea.” Despite what he was implying, he spoke with a friendly, gentle tone. You liked how his voice rolled when it was this quiet... you liked the feeling in your chest when his eyelights held your gaze in the dark, free of false bravado and layers of acts he puts up. “you know what i’m like.”

  
  


“Are you planning on feeling me up without consent?” You asked, simply.

  
  


“no.” He didn’t miss a beat.

  
  


“Then it’s ok.” You shrugged, still holding the covers up. “I trust you.”

  
  


...

  
  


... He moved, stood... and slid into bed with you.

  
  


You dropped the duvet (limbs sore from holding it straight for so long) and let your arm wrap around the expanse of Red’s chest that you could cover, pressed against his side. He smelled so good... smoky, thistly. You sighed at his warmth, happy to have a cuddle buddy.

  
  


“... yer way too trusting of large dangerous guys, baby.” He half-chuckled, wrapping his arm around you in response to your confident snuggle.

  
  


“Not really.” You responded, eyes shut, comfortable. “Just you.”

  
  


His breathing stopped short, but you didn’t notice- already safely and comfortably falling back to sleep.


	14. My enemy's enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're not going to stand for this.

_Five souls._

_One strong, four weak._

_Determination glowing in the dark. Patience, scarred Bravery, fractured Perseverance, all faintly resting by their side._

_And out in the distance... Pride._

_He roused from his empty nightmare. The sympathetic, comforting hum of the Determined Soul that reached through the black to touch him still warmed his very core. He’d felt the hum before, out there in the sea of magic, and paid it no mind, but..._

  
  


_... Now it had his full attention. It- no..._ they _made contact. He felt them. They called out to him when he was hurting and, without knowing, formed a trail he could follow._

  
  


_He_ _**had** _ _to find them._

  
  


“Just to say, guys; I’ve got a date after work tomorrow, so I can’t-”

  
  


_C r u n c h_

  
  


...

  
  


... Water and shards of glass spilled from Skull’s fist to drop all over the counter. You looked up, startled, from drying your last plate (post-dinner cleaning duty) to see the clear liquid running over his bones and all down his arm... eyelight fixed on you, no bigger than a golf ball.

  
  


Red was staring with a look of shock at Skull... And Sans at you, brows high on his head.

  
  


“... That was... a surprisingly violent reaction.” You said, cautiously, lowering the plate. Was he okay...?

  
  


... He put his still-closed fist down on the counter silently.

  
  


“what? who!?” Red asked, kicking away off the wall he’d been leaning on. He seemed shocked (why though?!).

  
  


“Chill, dude!” You put your hands up, stepping back, worried and confused as to why they jumped on this so hard. “Just Trist from downstairs! Sans knows him already. He’s coming round here after work to pick me up.”

  
  


“yeah guys.” Sans sighed, polishing some cutlery and putting them in the drawer one by one. “just a date. calm down.”

  
  


... For a split second, you face dropped. You didn’t want to admit how bad it felt to watch Sans brush it off so easily... But... you forced on your casual smile, pretending like you found his complete disregard relieving. You should’ve expected that. _So much for him being jealous. He couldn’t care less._ “... Yeah.”

  
  


Silence.

  
  


... You cleared your throat, putting away the plate, awkwardness filling the atmosphere. “Anyway, I’m going to bed. So just... when you see him tomorrow, don’t slam the door in his face or kill him. Ok?”

  
  


“... only ‘cus you asked me to, sweetheart.” Red chuckled, winking. You felt some _actual_ relief at his casual attitude, and smiled at him, allowing your shoulders to drop just a little.

  
  


Neither of you felt it entirely necessary to mention his little midnight ‘moment’ (and you woke up with all your clothes still on so he had a 10/10 in your cuddle books) to the others. He’d cuddled you through the night without a single word... then gotten up before your alarm and gone back to their room without disturbing you. You felt just that little bit closer to him now; like there was more to him as a person than just ‘that guy who flirts’.

  
  


Besides. You weren’t gonna mention that you were awake when he left- that you were conscious when he tucked you in and gave your head a stroke.

  
  


You folded up your drying towel and left the kitchen, done for the day, leaving the three skeletons on their own.

  
  


...

  
  


Silence in the kitchen.

  
  


...

  
  


Your bedroom door, only just audible, shut.

  
  


Sans slowly shut the drawer and put down the fork in his hand, smile still warm and casual, metal he just placed on the counter bent beyond repair. The stainless steel was twisted and cracked to match the inner curves of the bones in his hand as easily as if it were butter. It was a good thing you hadn’t been focusing too hard on his expression- his eyesockets were dark with a raw, burning feeling all the other variations of him present in the room were currently sharing.

  
  


A feeling that, if only temporarily, united them without a single word.

  
  


“we have to get rid of him.” Sans smiled.

  
  


Red headed over to the counter slowly, picking up the fork and examining the damage, humming with agreement. His voice was low, careful to not be overheard by you in the other room. “anything we can work with?”

  
  


“man is a closeted racist.” Sans replied. “he won’t look me in the socket or shake my hand. like hell he’d let them know, though, seeing as they _live_ with monsters...” His sockets narrowed, teeth grinding. “probably thinks he can ‘save’ them from us and get them to move in with him.”

  
  


“could we tell 'em?” Red leant his back against the counter, looking side-on at Sans. “if we all came to them sayin’ this dude was nasty? ‘magine their face if we told them he said some rude shit to skull. they’d have his fleshy head on a stick.”

  
  


“won’t work.” Sans was deep in thought. “they're too sweet and kind, unless they saw it with their own eyes they’d give him a shot to apologise to us and redeem himself. they've known him for a while.”

  
  


“... hm.” Red’s brow furrowed. “true. an’ we can’t afford for him to have a single fuckin’ chance.”

  
  


“... could we just kill him?”

  
  


“naw, they ain’t gullible.” Red grumbled, looking up at the ceiling, face momentarily relaxing as he thought about you. “believe me, i was just thinkin’ about it. but did y’see how little time it took them to figure your bullshit ‘cousin’ story out? this’d be a doozy. they date this guy _once_ while we’re possessive and hormonal, an’ blam... he suddenly _mysteriously_ vanishes from existence an’ his body pops up somewhere outside of town. they’d _freak.”_

  
  


“... true.” Sans sighed.

  
  


“... needs to learn to hate him themelf first. then anythin’ we do will be justified.”

  
  


...

  
  


Skull, beside them, finally unclenched his bloodied, shredded fist, and let the shards of glass and drops of dark mahogany-coloured blood fall unheeded onto the counter.

  
  


“i have an idea.” He said, voice slow and lower than either of them had ever heard before. They both turned to look at him- he had an expression of blank, cold hate on his features.

  
  


He turned to them.

  
  


“but i need help.”

  
  


Red nodded immediately. “if you think this’ll work? whatever you need.”

  
  


Skull and Red looked at Sans.

  
  


... No hesitation. He nodded too.

  
  


“whatever it takes to get this fucker out their life.”

  
  


...

  
  


Skull’s grin stretched eerily wide.

  
  


“... here’s what we’re gonna do.”

  
  


\---

  
  


You were groggy as hell the next morning, almost pouring coffee straight onto the counter, and would’ve stubbed your foot on the table if you hadn’t already put your shoes on so you could run away immediately if you started getting accosted due to hiccups again.

  
  


So, of course, you didn’t notice your phone going missing for a few minutes.

  
  


Sans (first in the plan), having memorised your password many times over, could immediately get in to the device. Easily. The guys sat in their room as a three, huddled around your phone silently, reading the messages you’d been sending Trist with ever-more fury growing in their bones.

  
  


19:27

  
  


**\- Twist OwO:** what the hell did you just make my name

  
  


**\- You:** Nothing lol :)

  
  


**\- Twist OwO:** i swear to god if it’s another one of those tik tok memes i’m actually going to start crying

  
  


**\- You:** it’s not i swear

  
  


**\- Twist OwO:** just change it please

  
  


**-You:** nope it makes me cry-laugh when i see it in my notifications

 **\- You:** besides, what’ve you got against ironic tik toks??

  
  


**\- Twist OwO:** oh my god it IS a tik tok meme

 **\- Twist OwO:** change it please

 **\- Twist OwO:** if you don’t im gonna die

  
  


**\- You:** then perish

  
  


Sans, unlike the other two, who were _completely_ lost, found this conversation _very_ amusing... but he quickly regained himself, typing out two simple messages. He’d had enough exchanges akin to this one with you to know _exactly_ how you spoke over text- and, thus, mimic it.

  
  


**\- You:** hey dude, mind coming up to pick me up a little earlier? like, around 4:15.

 **\- You:** theres a shop I wanna visit on the way and it closes at 5

  
  


They waited.

  
  


...

  
  


Two minutes later, the messages read as seen. A little bubble popped up.

  
  


...

  
  


**\- Twist OwO:** sure, that actually works better for me. Cya later ;)

  
  


The little winkey-smiley made Skull and Sans cringe _hard,_ and Red outright bare his teeth. But they waited a few moments until Trist’s name read _Offline..._ and quickly deleted the sent messages.

  
  


Trist had no idea how much deeper he was digging his own grave.

  
  


Red was next in the plan, with his flirtatious touching and smooth-talking. He swept you close to him by the waist and grazed your cheek with his sharp teeth, whispering something neither of the other skeletons _ever_ wanted to hear judging by your immediate, scandalised silence despite you opening your mouth and trying to say something. With all your attention focused solely on him, slipping your phone back into your bag was obscenely easy.

  
  


“you didn’t have to get _that_ close.” Sans grumbled, once you left.

  
  


“hey, i got the job done, didn’t i?” Red snickered. “besides. we can worry about each other’s advances once _t-twisty-kun_ is gone for good.”

  
  


“if you ever say ‘twisty-kun’ again i’m going to castrate you with my bare hands.”

  
  


“kinky. be gentle with me, sansy-kun.”

  
  


Sans leapt from his chair. _“you fucking-”_

  
  


Skull cut across them with a sharp glare and a tight, hissed voice. “we’re not done.”

  
  


... They both sighed.

  
  


“right.” Sans sat down. “this better work. i’m not letting that scrawny piece of shit take them away.”

  
  


“stick to the plan.” Skull said, simply, fiddling with something in his hands. Red looked up, raising a brow.

  
  


“someone’s talkative today. i think this is the most i’ve ever heard ya say in one sitting.”

  
  


... Skull paused in his fiddling for only a moment, his jaw setting tight, socket lidded in concentration.

  
  


“i won’t lose them”

  
  


“you won’t.” Red relaxed into the seat. “we’ll get this over with... and then we can go right back t’ fightin over 'em like a bunch of three year olds. good times.”

  
  


Sans rolled his eyelights.

  
  


“yeah. ‘good’ times.”

  
  


\---

  
  


At 4:21 (the guy lived _one floor_ underneath them and he _still_ somehow came over later than requested), three sharp knocks at the front door made Sans look up from his book. He glanced over to Red and Skull, who both nodded, ready- you never knocked. You always just came straight in.

  
  


Sans, _almost_ nervous, answered the door with a tight grin and small, pin-sharp eyelights.

  
  


Trist had been leaning on the door frame like a fucking _moron._ When the door opened he immediately started talking... just the sound of his _voice_ made it harder for the three of them to not just start beating the shit out of him. “Hey! I-”

  
  


...

  
  


Trist’s eyes narrowed.

  
  


“... Oh. Sans.”

  
  


“afternoon.” He grinned up at him, curt. His voice was soft and his smile, to the untrained eye, was casual.

  
  


“Where’s-”

  
  


“they're not here yet. why don’tcha come on in and wait for them?”

  
  


... Trist, rightfully suspicious, seemed to hesitate for just a moment. But he quickly ‘regained’ himself and nodded, stepping into the apartment and heading over to the couch to sit down.

  
  


He _gasped_ aloud, and stepped back a little, face falling in shock.

  
  


... Skull stared back, from his seat on the sofa, single eyelight tight, small, and glowing with warning.

  
  


“Wh-who-” Trist began, voice tight and tiny as he spun around.

  
  


Presumably, to head to the door.

  
  


“oh, don’t mind him.” Sans said, in the way, grin growing further into something less pleasant. Behind him, Red loomed casually with his back against the door, arms folded... exuding an aura similar to that of a bouncer outside a nightclub. _Blocking it._ “that’s my cousin, skull. real close with (y/n), they're so open minded. just sit down, they’ll be here soon.”

  
  


...

  
  


Trist sat on the very furthest side of the sofa, as far away from Skull as he could physically be, visibly sweating a little under the giant’s gaze. His gaze flicked once to Red blocking the door- then quickly back to his lap.

  
  


“so.” Sans perched on the sofa arm next to Skull, looking across at the frightened human. His voice was dangerously soft... almost inaudible to anyone outside the room. “you think you’re even _slightly_ in their league?”

  
  


... Trist blinked, and looked over at them.

  
  


“Excuse me?”

  
  


“you think you deserve a chance with them.”

  
  


“... Well.” Trist’s brows drew together. _“They_ accepted _my_ date offer.”

  
  


“you seriously believe we’re just gonna roll over and let you have them?” Sans’s sockets narrowed, and the air began to buzz.

  
  


But this time, the buzz wasn’t the jumping, show-off crackle of someone’s magic claiming dominance over another’s... this was a _threat._ Three powerful sources combining and coming together into one warning, that seemed to _sting_ the skin, cloud the corners of the windows and make the light bulb flicker softly.

  
  


Trist, unused to being around monsters, disregarded the feeling.

  
  


“Are you _threatening_ me?” He said, sitting up a little in his seat, cheeks flushing with indignance.

  
  


Skull could hear Trist’s squidgy pathetic heart begin to pump faster as his frail, overfed and underworked little body filled with anger... nowhere near as charming as the little flutters among the strong, stable beats emanating from _your_ chest that he’d carefully attuned to over time. He almost scowled.

  
  


Red simply grinned, enjoying the scene and bouncing a little on the balls of his feet... if the guy _did_ get up and attack someone he knew exactly what to do. But for now, his job was simple...

  
  


... Keep his metaphorical ears opened to the sounds from the hallway and stairway behind the door.

  
  


“i asked a question first, bucko.” Sans replied, voice still unusually quiet. “two, actually. i was expecting your dumb human mind to be slow but not _this_ slow.”

  
  


... Trist was taken aback by the unabashedly racist comment for only a few seconds.

  
  


_“Excuse me?”_

  
  


“deaf as a plank of wood, too, apparently.”

  
  


“Y-you-”

  
  


“they don’t like you that way, you know.” He smiled, a facsimile of goodwill, face dark. “in fact... i’m pretty sure that if you suddenly vanished for no reason, they wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

  
  


Trist inhaled very slightly, a sound another human would not have picked up on, and grit his teeth.

  
  


“... Are you saying what I _think_ you’re saying?” His fingers were fidgeting. Perfect. “You know, humans wouldn’t stand for that. There’d be war.”

  
  


“who says anyone will find out?”

  
  


...

  
  


Trist’s eyes glanced to the door. Not subtle at all. He kept his voice as strong as his feeble vocal chords could manage, brows knitted together, determined to not show fear. “... Are you saying you’re going to kill me?”

  
  


“wow, paranoid much?” Sans chuckled- and just like _that_ he was right back into a friendly face, leaning back against the sofa as Skull beside him continued to amount the staring pressure. _Too_ friendly... something about his completely lax and open expression despite the razor-sharp eyelights was disturbing to even Trist, who had no experience reading the minutiae of skeleton features.

  
  


... Red, across the room, nodded to Sans. A short and sharp movement that Trist didn’t even notice.

  
  


“lemme simple it down for your little stupid human brain.” Sans said, changing his tone. “you think you’ve got a chance with them over a group of monsters?”

  
  


Trist laughed- a short, disingenuous, almost _panicked_ sound, more to prove a point than indicating actual amusement. “Yeah, I really fucking do!”

  
  


“why would that be?” Quiet.

  
  


“B-because you’re fucking _monsters!”_ Trist was shrill, loud and nervous, whipped into a frenzied state by the pressure Sans, Skull and Red had been inflicting. Like a weasel lashing out after being caught in a trap. “You’re all _skeletons,_ you aren’t even attractive monsters! You’re creepy as shit! How are they ever gonna get what they want from skeletons? Cuddles? Sex? Nope!”

  
  


“there’s more to it than that.” Sans continued, cool and easy.

  
  


“Guardsman over there has teeth larger than quarters, _you’re_ barely their size, and this guy is missing half his fucking head!” Trist continued, standing, fingers shaking. “Who would fall for that!? Even if they _were_ some monster fucker it would be some goddamn stretch to fall for a guy like him, who’s a monster in every sense of the word. He looks like he’s going to kill someone in their sleep! He-”

  
  


Red gave the signal. He waved, quickly, and vanished from sight. Sans followed suit into the next stage of the plan without even letting Trist finish, his entire face changing like a mask being swapped or a switch being flicked. It fell from needle sharp contempt, to annoyance and a little bit of worry in the time it took a pin to drop, placing his hand on Skull’s shoulder... as if holding him back.

  
  


All Skull had to do was hunch his shoulders and look away, and the act was ready.

  
  


The door _slammed_ open.

  
  


_“How fucking dare you!?”_

  
  


Your loud and hate-saturated voice, almost breaking with fury, was a dream come true to three of the people in the room.

  
  


For one, the last thing he wanted to see.

  
  


Trist spun around at the sound of your voice, turning to you like one would turn to the sound of a wild animal directly behind them. He stumbled back a step, face dropping like a bird with lead wings.

  
“W-wait, it’s not-”

  
  


“How _DARE_ you say those things to my roommate!?” You _exploded,_ storming toward him. You’d completely lost it, not even _Sans_ had ever seen you this angry. You looked like you were about to beat the everloving _shit_ out of Trist, eyes wild and alight with animosity, cheeks red, hands balled into tight fists.. “You... you think you can just come in here and say disgusting, _vile_ racist things to my friends!? Is this a regular thing?! You _insult_ my roommates while I’m not here?!?”

  
  


“W-wait-!”

  
  


“A-and _monster fucker!?”_ You seemed on the edge of killing Trist and doing Skull’s job for him. “You’re calling me _that_ behind my back!? I’m fucking glad I found out what you’re really like, you piece of absolute _shit!”_

  
  


“(Y/n) _listen_ to me!” Trist had his hands out in front of him, as if to protect himself from you, white as a sheet despite the size difference. “Th-they planned this, h-he threatened me while the other guy blocked the door so-”

  
  


_Smack!_

  
  


...

  
  


Sans and Red had to try _really_ hard not to laugh. You’d hit Trist _right around the face_ with the back of your hand.

  
  


“How. Dare. You.” You _seethed._

  
  


“B-but-”

  
  


“Are you _kidding me!?”_ You screeched. “Those three couldn’t run a goddamn _lemonade stand_ together, let alone coordinate some master plan to get you to spout racist shit _exactly on time_ for me to walk in on it! And even if they did, it doesn’t change the fact that you still told Skull _he looked like someone who would kill people in their sleep! AND CALLED ME A MONSTER FUCKER!”_

  
  


“I d-”

  
  


“Get _out_ of my apartment!” You pointed to the door. “I never want to see your face again!”

  
  


“J-”

  
  


_“OUT!”_

  
  


... Like a pathetic little dog with its tail between its legs after being mauled by an alpha, Trist ran from the apartment, the door slamming shut behind him.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


The silence seemed thick.

  
  


...

  
  


Your shoulders were shaking with adrenaline and rage.

  
  


Just as you turned around, most likely to address the three of them, Skull stood up from the sofa. He rushed over to you and grabbed you in a tight hug- you barely had enough time to open your arms in response- pressing his face against the top of your head.

  
  


... You stroked his back, sighing shakily, hugging too.

  
  


“Are you okay?” You said, rubbing up and down Skull’s back affectionately, tone so incredibly different to the one you’d bellowed a few moments ago. “He’s gone now. You can relax.”

  
  


“h-he... he said...” Skull replied, using his stammer and emotional connection with you in a way even _Sans_ had to admit was masterful. “... you... w-were always gonna be scared. of me.”

  
  


... Not completely a lie. That _was_ the gist of what Trist was saying.

  
  


“Hey.” You leaned back a bit and took his cheekbones in both your hands, making his large, dilated iris look directly at you. He still had one massive hand braced on your back but you ignored it in favour of giving him a gentle stroke on the face, expression so sweet that you could see tension that he didn’t even know was _there_ bleeding from his shoulders. “I’ll never be scared of you. The only scary thing around here is how ugly his personality is.”

  
  


...Skull chuckled, and wrapped himself back around you. You turned your head to the side, ear and cheek smooshed againsthis chest, looking at Sans and Red.

  
  


“You two okay?”

  
  


Sans nodded, grimacing. “he only made passing comments about us. it was skull that he really went for.”

  
  


You scowled, lips tightening and gaze darting off into the distance, eyes hardening. “God, what a dickweed. I can’t believe I almost went on a _date_ with him.”

  
  


“well, y’know what they say.” Red sighed, crossing the room and leaning his forearms over the back of the sofa, smile still casual. “ya can always see someone’s real personality by how they treat their inferiors.”

  
  


“You’re _not_ inferiors.”

  
  


_“perceived_ inferiors, then.” He corrected, chuckling.

  
  


You huffed to yourself, frowning... but you freed one arm and stuck it out, gesturing at the two of them.

  
  


“Come on, you guys, group hug. No murdering. Bring it in.”

  
  


... You didn’t have to ask twice.


	15. Mobbed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final challenger has entered the ring.

_it’s close. i can feel it._

  
  


_i can feel_ _**th** _ **em.**

  
  


...

  
  


You sat under a bus stop, wind whistling past gently with your coat wrapped firmly around you, and texted Sans to tell him you’d be home late from work tonight. Your fingers felt cold around the phone and the bright screen seemed to suck your gaze in...

  
  


... You just... were hoping he wouldn’t ask why.

  
  


... A small pause as he probably considered whether it was worth putting in the effort to check his phone.

  
  


16:03

  
  


**\- You:** gonna be a few hours late back, bud.

  
  


**\- outdated meme:** sre ok

 **\- outdated meme:** what time do you think youll be back?

 **\- outdated meme:** just make sure it isnt too late, skull looks like a hurt puppy right now

  
  


You chuckled to yourself very slightly.

  
  


**\- You:** pfft. Tell him I’ll be back before 10. ;)

  
  


.... You sighed, and put the phone away, looking out into the street.

  
  


You weren’t sure how to react to today.

  
  


You’d been in a bad mood anyway... Trist kept trying to approach you outside of the apartment. You just ignored him and headed straight to work- quicker you got it over with, the quicker you got to go back to the guys.

  
  


But...

  
  


You’d ended up thinking too deeply about everything. About how you’d never get together with Sans. Were you at friendship level 99 or something? He’d even agreed that, if your boss pestered you about it in another floundering attempt at being suave, you could say Sans was your boyfriend and he’d back you up. Surely there _had_ to be some affection there, right?

  
  


... But no. No matter how hard you looked, all you could see was someone who either liked you as a friend, or had such well-hidden feelings they might not exist at all.

  
  


And then it spiralled into thinking about the other guys... they were going to leave at some point, weren’t they? Through the machine. They didn’t _belong_ in this universe, so to speak. You found yourself wishing they _were_ cousins... if they were, at least you could maintain contact once they left. Maybe see them again.

  
  


But... how could you ever see them again if they went to another goddamn _universe?_

  
  


You needed some alone time to think things through.

  
  


So here you were, at the end of the day. Not wanting to go back to the house because you _knew_ the guys would see how down you were and you _knew_ they would be huggy and supportive, but...

  
  


... You just... wanted a while to yourself. Take a walk, shut down your brain.

  
  


Which is exactly what you did.

  
  


You went to a pretty café and had a small bite to eat, wandered around the large shops near where you lived, walked to your favourite spot in the park you’d go to with Sans to sit _by yourself_ for once instead... you hadn’t realised it until you were alone, but it’d actually been _so long_ since you had proper time alone. You were working, paying bills, doing housework or being with Sans and the guys. When was the last time you just... were with yourself?

  
  


Two hours slipped by faster than you could anticipate, and you decided to make this a regular thing as you headed home. There wasn’t any sunlight left so you just took the main roads, but...

  
  


... You ended up passing a bar.

  
  


A group of three men, all definitely two or three drinks past what they could handle, were rotating between attractive strangers outside the club and trying to get ANY kind of attention. Most were in large groups or with their partners so the action was minimal.

  
  


Until they spotted you, of course. On the other side of the street, walking alone and unprotected.

  
  


... You picked up your pace, throat tightening. You just needed to get home.

  
  


One of them whistled- and they started to follow behind you, chuckles and low sentences passed between them drifting your way. Biting your lip to stay quiet and heart already beginning to thud nervously against your chest, you put your head down and marched forward.

  
  


Ignore them.

  
  


“Hey, darling!” Ugh... they were jogging to catch up. You turned a corner fast to hopefully discourage them but the footsteps next to you were an obvious clue that he was walking beside you. His voice was teasing and suggestive, but heavy with the sickly sweet scent of alcohol that made your nose twitch in disgust. This guy probably didn’t even act like this usually. “Hey. Slow down. Don’t you wanna talk...?”

  
  


“I have a boyfriend.” You said, curtly, eyes fixed ahead not slowing down at all.

  
  


“... Pfft.” He chuckled. “Sure you do.”

  
  


“He’s very jealous.” You said, haughtily, arms folded, hoping it would disguise the very slight shake in your voice. You didn’t know why you were digging yourself further into a hole... _just say ‘I have a boyfriend’ and leave, why are you continuing???_ “If he finds out you were talking to me, he’ll beat you up. You should just go before he gets here. We’re meeting up here.”

  
  


“I’m sure I’d _love_ to meet him.” The guy said. You finally graced him with a nervous glance- a red panda monster with wiry and uncombed fur. You immediately regretted looking and having such a wonderful and adorable animal as the red panda ruined for you by this obnoxious drunkard.

  
  


“Look, just take a hint.” You picked up the pace. “Leave me alone.”

  
  


... Not what he wanted to hear. He picked up too, snarling “Frigid bitch.” You almost began to run, one hand digging in your purse to get your phone as the two other pairs of footsteps caught up too, getting faster, oh fuck you had to scre-

  
  


... A shape emerged from the alleyway in front of you, stepping into the street. A _large_ shape.

  
  


For a moment, you stopped dead in panic and staggered back, thinking they’d _sent a guy around to grab you,_ a sickly numbing feeling exploding in your stomach.

  
  


... But when you looked closer, you could see two burning red pinpricks in sockets of jet black shining from under a cap, and a golden tooth twinkling very faintly in the growing dark.

  
  


“hey doll.” He grinned down at you. “these guys botherin’ y-?”

  
  


_Red!_

  
  


You didn’t even stop to question where he got that new hat and shirt from- relief and pure joy flooded your system with enough force to bring tears to the corners of your eyes. You beamed with happiness and immediately threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck...

  
  


... and kissing him.

  
  


For a moment, he seemed to be frozen in shock, entire body stiffening- but in less than a second he responded, wrapping his own big arms around you and leaning into it, a soft purring growl escaping his throat. The very tips of your toes touched the ground, barely enough to keep you up.

  
  


... Wow, he was good. You exhaled, eyes closed... Almost good enough for you to become unaware of the angry aura radiating from the chasers behind you. The way his hands gripped you so firmly, how his mouth felt against yours, his overwhelming energy, the thistly, street rain smell...

  
  


...

  
  


Wait.

  
  


_Street rain?_

  
  


... You pulled back, eyes blinking open, and something immediately struck you as _wrong_ about him, the magic of the moment fading.

  
  


He was still looking at you with a semi-starstruck expression but it just...

  
  


The more you studied him, the more your heart started to pound in something less than relief and joy. His eyes, his....

  
  


His smell...

  
  


His...

  
  


It...

  
  


It wasn’t Red. _This wasn’t Red._

  
  


...

  
  


You weren’t paying attention. Behind you, there was a grunt, and quick footsteps against tarmac- you gasped and turned in the stranger’s arms, eyes locking with a platypus-esq man with blondish spots in his chocolatey brown fur- he had an empty green beer bottle raised over his head with the full intention of bringing it down on you- he-

  
  


The skeleton stranger teleported in front of you. In a simple combination of smooth yet forceful movement almost too fast for you to see, he caught the platypus’s hand, punched him square in the jaw (beak?) and kicked his leg out from under him so he fell to his knees. He raised the empty bottle high over his head... and for a moment, you noted how pretty it looked, with the light casting through it, creating a very gentle green glow within.

  
  


... Then he brutally _smashed_ the glass over the platypus’s head, so hard pieces exploded everywhere, showering the road adjacent and bouncing off the wall on the opposite side. Platypus fell to the ground completely unconscious with a tiny trickle of blood staining the fur around the head wound.

  
  


“anyone else?” The stranger asked, tauntingly, deep and confident, wielding the broken neck of the bottle like a knife, a vicious sneer in his tone that immediately confirmed your suspicion that this was _not_ the Red you knew.

  
  


The attackers wasted no time. With expressions akin to those of someone who just crapped their pants, they grabbed their friend off the floor and ran.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


He dropped the bottle neck and sighed, turning around, wiping his hands on his shirt.

  
  


Now that you got a good look at him with him fully facing you in the light of the street lamp, your caution came back tenfold. He looked every bit like Red physically... the same barrel chest, the same huge arms, the same silhouette. They were identical. But he carried himself completely differently... like a professional. Back straight, the familiar air of confidence that always surrounded Red replaced by one of pride, and _power._

  
  


He wore smart black pants, a red shirt and a black tie, a large dark coat over his shoulders and a hat on his skull that cast a shadow over his sockets. The expensive types of clothes... like he’d just walked out of an important business meeting.

  
  


And now his eyelights were focused on you.

  
  


...

  
  


Your eyes narrowed and you almost took another step back. “...You’re not Red. Are you?”

  
  


“... no.” He admitted, fixing his coat, breaking eye contact. “but whoever he is, he’s a lucky fella, gettin’ kisses like that.”

  
  


You flushed, suddenly remembering that this man, eerily similar to Red or not, had just saved you from an incredibly unsavoury situation.

  
  


“Th-thank you.” You stammered, adrenaline catching up a little. “For helping me.”

  
  


... He searched your gaze for a moment. You probably looked pathetic- a nervous, pale human out on their own, apologising to the guy they just made out with. His eyelights seemed to lock you in place and make every hair on your body stand on end... like he was seeing straight through you. You couldn’t trust him. He was a stranger. A _dangerous_ stranger.

  
  


...

  
  


Something in his posture seemed to soften.

  
  


“anytime, doll.”

  
  


... _Doll?_

  
  


You vaguely remembered Red calling you ‘dollface’ once or twice, but his preferred nickname was still ‘sweetheart’. Just... Doll?

  
  


“You’re another Sans.” You said, voice barely a whisper.

  
  


...

  
  


... Now you had his full attention, his whole body turned to you. His eyelights snapped over to you and his sockets narrowed slightly.

  
  


...

  
  


“that i am.” He raised a brow bone. “what’s it to you?”

  
  


“N-nothing! I-I just thought... All the Sans’s came out of the machine?” You almost winced at mentioning that. _Stop making yourself a target!_

  
  


“...” His brows raised. “the _machine?_ so you know about that too?”

  
  


“U-uh, I-”

  
  


“to answer your question; no.”

  
  


His footsteps were slow, loud and intimidating as he approached, expensive shoes tapping on the tarmac beneath. You found yourself reflexively backing up, swallowing, trapped in his hard eyelights.

  
  


“i destroyed mine when my family made it to the surface. no bridge to another world. so this universe’s fuck-up just left me stranded in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere in a reality i ain’t even supposed to exist in.”

  
  


“Y-you made it to the surface?” Your back was against the wall. Literally, and figuratively.

  
  


“yep.”

  
  


You turned to the side as he got even closer, eyeing your potential escape route if things got nast-

  
  


_Slam!_

  
  


You squeaked _loudly_ and jumped at the sudden hand planting itself on the wall next to you, large, heavy arm blocking your way out. You were forced to turn to him and his burning eyes, the smokey and rainy scent making you dizzy. His face was only inches from yours, set in a falsely inviting grin you’d know anywhere.

  
  


_Suspicion._

  
  


Now that you were close you could see that you were wrong earlier... he _wasn’t_ identical to Red. He seemed to have more marks and healed-over scars dotted around his face. Shallow scrapes in the bone on his jaw, one long horizontal one across his cheekbone on the left hand side, and two, thin, almost invisible ones over his right socket.

  
  


“so... toots. that raises a few questions.” His velvety purr made your cheeks unwillingly flush- you felt that similar rabbit-in-headlights feeling you’d had on your date with Red, but this time without the air of teasing and safety. You just couldn’t help it when his sharp smile was so close to your face, close enough to feel his breath. What was it with versions of him and pinning you to walls?! “why’d this sans tell you what was going on? who are you to him?”

  
  


“I-I’m just his roommate!” You blabbed, trying to figure out if you were frightened, aroused, or both. “He told me because he’s a shit liar and I got suspicious when he couldn’t keep his story straight!”

  
  


...

  
  


He snorted.

  
  


It was like a wall going down. He made another choked sound, and then started chuckling in earnest, before breaking into proper laughter, shoulders bouncing, terrifying interrogative aura slipping like sand between fingers as a smile broke over his face. You blinked in slight confusion at the miraculous instant attitude change (not that it wasn’t welcome) and kept completely still, back remaining against the cold, scratchy bricks.

  
  


“i-is that so?” He asked, smouldering eyelights now far more welcoming, even if he _did_ have you trapped. You felt less like a tiny bird pinned by a hungry cat, and more like someone trying to please a very rich and powerful business associate, who at the moment seems cheerful but at any second could bring down your company.

  
  


It didn’t help that he sounded so much like Red it was _creepy._

  
  


“gotta say, toots,” he seemed to be looking at you anew now, a new (oddly playful?) smile on his features. “i’m pretty lucky to have run into you.”

  
  


“... Well. ... How so?” You asked, still flat against he wall. Well... if he was anything _like_ the other Sanses, you had to be fearless and confident for him to like you. You didn’t know him, but... it was a good guess.

  
  


“yer just who i was looking for.”

  
  


“... You’re looking for people who know this universe’s Sans?”

  
  


... He paused for a moment, and... you thought you saw something like disappointment? But it was gone in less than a moment and he shrugged nonchalantly. Maybe you were seeing things? You were tired, had just been scared, he was a new Sans, and it was dark. Skeleton expressions were hard to read anyway.

  
  


“yeah. fact that i didn’t even have to track ya down is _very_ helpful. and you know _everything..._ he told you instead of just diggin’ himself into a deeper hole to hide it. ya must be pretty important to him to get to learn the truth.”

  
  


“Friendzone level 99 more like.” You mumbled, glancing off.

  
  


...

  
  


You said that.

  
  


Out loud.

  
  


To a stranger.

  
  


You smacked a hand over your mouth in complete mortification as he burst into another fit of loud, raucous laughter, actually taking his hand off the wall to wipe the corners of his sockets.

  
  


“c-christ, babydoll,” he hooted, the tense air completely gone as he looked down at you. “i’ve heard some shit in this universe but _that’s_ somethin’ i never thought i’d hear comin’ out a real person’s mouth. ‘friendzone level 99?’ gahah...”

  
  


“Well.” Your cheeks were red with indignation, brows drawn together. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

  
  


“but it happened anyway?” He snickered. “don’t worry, poppet, i know how that feels.”

  
  


You sighed, letting yourself relax a little. He seemed to be an... okay guy.

  
  


“hehe... say.” He turned to you again. “what’s your number?”

  
  


“I should probably leave.” You pointed to the side, comedic levels of unimpressed at the flip-of-a-coin attitude change.

  
  


“yeeaahhh...” ... He put his hand back on the wall, this time with less slamming and intimidation. In fact, you weren’t even frightened as you stared up into his ruby eyelights. “not so fast. got somethin’ else i need ya help with.”

  
  


You raised a brow. It was like with Skull and how similar he was to Sans... something about this stranger bearing such a striking resemblance to Red (they were probably from very similar timelines) meant that unless he was directly threatening you it was _so_ hard to keep your guard up. Especially when he’d shifted to a much jokier and flirtier persona.

  
  


“y’see, birdie...” He pulled a phone out of his coat pocket that had _definitely_ not been in there before. “i got me one of those... new fandangled touch phones.”

  
  


“New? _Fandangled?_ What are you, a grandpa?” ... You scowled a little. “And whose phone is that?”

  
  


“not important.” He purred, looking at it, and then back up to you. “what _is_ important is that i don’t know how to use this. would be helpful if i had someone teachin' me.”

  
  


“Sure would.” You folded your arms, voice a challenge. “Too bad I only help people who ask me _nicely_ instead of literally having me up against a wall.”

  
  


“c’mooon.” He said in a sing-song tone, face coming closer to yours. “if you can smooch a guy you can help him with a phone, can’t ya? plus, i saved your pretty ass back there.”

  
  


“Which was a decent, kind thing to do. Doesn’t mean I owe you anything.”

  
  


You... you booped his nose. You couldn’t help it, it just felt natural. It wasn’t like he _had_ much of a nose to boop anyway, so you instead skimmed the ridge lightly with the end of your finger. It made him blink, and...

  
  


... Smile properly.

  
  


His free hand came off the wall and took the one you just used to boop him, touch delicate and not what you would have expected given his attitude only a few minutes ago. He brought your hand to his mouth and... _kissed your knuckle._

  
  


... Oh geez.

  
  


“mm... i like that colour.” He chuckled. You blinked a little and pulled your hand away to feel your cheek- burning hot, as it normally was when a variant of Sans so blatantly flirted with you. God... sometimes, you just wanted to melt into the floor and vanish.

  
  


“I’m still not helping you until you ask nicely.” You said, voice shaky and smaller than normal. You had to look away to stop yourself flushing more. He just kissed your hand... like some kind of knight! How romantic was _that?_ You really had to try to keep yourself together.

  
  


“... m’kay.” He sighed. _“please_ help me with this mobile?”

  
  


... You couldn’t help but finally crack a smile.

  
  


He wasn’t actually lacking in that much knowledge about touch phones, and seemed to understand what they did and what their functions were. But it still felt like teaching a grandpa how to access a touch-screen phone his grandkids had gotten him for Christmas- he had no idea how to even leave the screensaver. You showed him that he had to swipe, not just tap, you showed him how to download an app and how to use his texting feature. Luckily for you he was quite smart and quick to catch on... so you spent a pleasant few minutes back under your little bus stop, teaching a giant skeleton how to use wifi.

  
  


“hey, so...” He opened his contacts and turned to you, holding out the device. “... mind if you give me your number so i can text ya if i need any more help with this?”

  
  


“Sure.” You took it and typed the number in, sending a skull emoji to yourself as the message. “I’ll put you in my contacts. Uhm...”

  
  


You looked up at him, smiling awkwardly.

  
  


“... What should I call you?”

  
  


He tilted his head, raising a brow. “uh... my name?”

  
  


“No, it’s just...” You felt even _more_ awkward, handing back his phone. “There’s _four_ Sanses in this one universe now. I call my Sans ‘Sans’. The others have nicknames so it doesn’t get confusing. Red and Skull.”

  
  


“... aah. i see.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “sounds fun. tell me _your_ name first.”

  
  


Oh! You’d almost completely forgotten that he didn’t even know your name! You were so used to just hanging out with the guys... and this Red-lookalike acted like you’d been friends for ages.

  
  


“Right! I’m (y/n).” You held out your hand. “Thank you for saving me. And... sorry for throwing myself at you like that earlier.”

  
  


He grinned, and shook your hand. His grip was soft... gentle. And so was his gaze.

  
  


“don't worry about it. i'm sans. but ya know that. call me... hit.”

  
  


“Hit?”

  
  


“mhm.”

  
  


“Like...” You tilted your head. “Like ‘hit’ting someone?”

  
  


He chuckled in a way that made you think there might’ve been more to it than that... but he shrugged, smiling, face slightly shadowed by his hat.

  
  


“yeah. like that. snappy, dontcha think?”

  
  


You giggled a little, rolling your eyes. “Sure. _Snappy.”_

  
  


“hey, real quick. before you go.” He put a hand on your shoulder, and you blinked, glancing up at him properly. He seemed... troubled? His smile had dropped a little at the corners and his eyelights had sharpened around the edges. “promise me that you won’t tell your sans that i’m here.”

  
  


“... What?” Your brow furrowed a little in confusion. That was hella suspicious. “Why?”

  
  


“knowing... well, _myself,_ he’ll probably keep me confined with the other sanses that his mistake brought through until he can fix the machine and send everyone back.” He cringed a little, but didn’t take his hand off your shoulder, instead gently rubbing his thumb back and forth along the fabric of your clothing. “just... a way of keeping track and making sure no one buggers off an’ kills someone by accident, i guess. but either way... i need to be out and about. i’d go batshit nuts if i was stuck in the same room for more than a week. you catch my drift?”

  
  


You narrowed your eyes a little. “What about when he needs to send everyone back?”

  
  


“machine will drag me with them.” He said, easily, shrugging. “it focuses on anomalies and pulls them through, running them through every universe in a split second until they fall into the one they match. it’s like... pushin’ the last jigsaw piece on every spot around the board until it falls into the one it needs ta be in. we’ll naturally slot right in, one at a time, no damage done.

  
  


...

  
  


... please?”

  
  


Damnit. You were a sucker for good manners and people who genuinely seemed like they needed help. You sighed... and nodded, putting your hand on top of his and patting it.

  
  


He seemed to be telling the truth, after all. It made sense... and you could understand where he was coming from. If you were stuck in one apartment with three different versions of yourself for however long it’s going to take Sans to fix the machine, you’d definitely go a little crazy.

  
  


And you’d yet to meet a Sans that your gut didn’t feel was trustworthy.

  
  


“Alright. I promise I won’t tell Sans, so long as you don’t give me a reason to.”

  
  


He smiled at you, in a way that made your heart skip slightly.

  
  


“thanks, doll.” He took his hand off your shoulder, standing and smoothing out his coat, shoving his hands (and phone) into the pockets. He looked down at you, bouncing his brows in such a Red™ fashion that you almost laughed again. “gimme a buzz if you need any help... or are just willin’ to mack on me again.”

  
  


He winked.

  
  


“... Wait. H-hey!” You stood, flushing with indignance and the memory of his huge arms wrapped firmly around you and his warm lips right up against yours. “You can’t tell anyone about that-!”

  
  


Too late. He vanished into thin air, shit-eating grin and all, leaving you standing under your little bus shelter with nothing but a bright pink face, a stammer, and a promise.


	16. let me speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unwanted memories always come back.

_it’s not my fault. i didn’t know it wasn't my frisk._

  
  


You’d always been somewhat intimidated by the monster/human ambassador, Frisk.

  
  


They just... there was _something_ about them that unnerved you slightly. Not in a bad way, like when your gut screams that someone is untrustworthy, just... _off._

  
  


They seemed both a child and an adult at the same time, the same height as you and Sans, physically having no definitive traits to identify if they were a boy or a girl. You didn’t mind this, and Frisk seemed happy enough to just be called ‘they’, even though they also responded to ‘he’ and ‘she’ with little to no visible unpleasant reaction. It didn’t help that the only time you spoke to them, you asked them their age, and they just... _laughed._ They had the body proportions of someone who just entered the teen phase but the air and tone of elderly wisdom that only people who’d lived for a long, long time ever had.

  
  


They had thick, shoulder-length brown hair, heavy eyelashes that (from a distance) made you think their eyes were closed, and a constantly neutral expression broken only when they flirted. When they _did_ speak it was to-the-point and simplistic, sometimes too quiet for someone standing right next to them to even hear.

  
  


It was like... you couldn’t pin down a consistent personality trait for them. Timid? Nope. Fearless? Too quiet. Funny? Only ever told jokes with Sans and their adoptee mother Toriel. Casual? That stare could bring down a bull.

  
  


I mean... the most you could ever pinpoint was that they enjoyed spending time with their monster friends. And ‘enjoying time with your friends’ is hardly a character trait, let alone something that only Frisk ever experiences.

  
  


So yeah. Unsettling.

  
  


They’d shown up at your apartment unannounced- you hadn’t even known it was them until you heard Sans open the door and say “hey! come to see your ol’ dunkle, huh?”... a term exclusively used for them. You decided not to head over, instead sitting in your room with the door open a little.

  
  


“true. i know we haven’t spoken in a while. but you know why.” Sans chuckled, answering a question you hadn’t even heard spoken. “i mean... you probably felt all those ‘disturbances’, huh?”

  
  


...

  
  


“yeah, they know. don’t worry. although you would’ve been a lot better at coming up with a lie on the spot than me, buddy.”

  
  


...

  
  


“doesn’t mean you ain’t sharp, bucko. anyway- how’s tori? she kicked asgore’s ass yet?”

  
  


That was definitely a laugh- a small, chortling one, almost indistinguishable from the various sounds around you... cars outside the apartment, people chatting, someone a few floors below vacuuming their floor (there wasn’t many people in the block today considering it was one of the last few warmish days of the year)... but at least this time you actually heard something since you’d been listening out for it, unlike previous occasions.

  
You ignored the rest of their silentish conversation, just shutting your eyes for a moment.

... A thud that made you jump. Like someone dropped something hard on a carpeted surface. Empty, encompassing, tense silence.

  
  


The air began to press down on you.

  
  


...

  
  


You sat up in your bed.

  
  


Somebody spoke in a deep, unnatural voice. It was _saturated_ with hate, strained and hissed, growled, but at the same time _spat_ out like toxic food. You’d never heard anything like it. The pure rage and detestement contained in a single word sent shivers down the full length of your spine and made a pit form in your stomach.

  
  


_“_ _ **y o u . ”**_ They snarled.

  
  


...

  
  


And then the air burst.

  
  


It was like getting hit by a mini _shockwave_ that made the surface of your body tingle and fizz like the sensation of a carbonated drink. You _felt_ it rush over your body, expanding outwards through the air in a bursting wave of released energy. Every inch of exposed skin _prickled,_ every hair shot up straight, every nerve lit up- and it was all accompanied by a high-pitched ringing in your ears and a blood-like taste on the tip of your tongue.

  
  


After gasping at the unpleasant feeling you flinched and immediately shook the sensation away, jumping up and running as fast as you could to the open bedroom door, across the hallway and to the-

  
  


...

  
  


Skull was _fighting_ to get to the door.

  
  


Red had his arms hooked under Skull’s armpits and around his shoulders, forcibly holding him back with his feet planted firmly to the ground and an odd deep bluish light emitting from his chest under his clothes, and Skull’s too- the magic seemed to be Sans, who was standing at a short distance with his eyelights burning in a single ring and hands out, visibly sweating. But Skull wasn’t being a quiet captive, no- he was throwing himself, _clawing_ at Red’s tight grip despite Sans’s best attempts to hold his feet to the ground, roaring and fighting and thrashing so much that every lunge pulled Red with him like a bull tossing men attempting to rope it down. He was so large that the smaller two were clearly having trouble keeping him in one place, let alone actually getting him restrained, the air heavy with anger and pain.

  
  


And, God, his face... you’d _never_ seen him like this. It made you freeze dead in your tracks, stagger back a single step, and grab the wall as if for protection.

  
  


His smile was stretched unnaturally, _painfully_ wide across his face, huge sharp teeth bored in a broken mix between a laugh, a snarl and a shout. His face was dark with uncontained fury, sockets open to their fullest, and his iris, usually lax and dilated, was so small and tight and trapped that it was no bigger than a quarter. It looked wrong, it looked crushed and smothered and trapped, burning with that bloody red light.

  
  


He turned and looked at you for a moment.

  
  


...

  
  


A split second falter.

  
  


Then he turned right back to the door and threw himself again, almost knocking Red completely off his feet, letting out an almost _inhuman_ roar that shook you to your core, another wave of magic expanding out from him.

  
  


Red noticed.

  
  


He turned to you, looking around Skull’s shoulder. You were certain that if he had skin his knuckles would be white splitting by now, given the force with how long he’d been holding Skull for.

  
  


“sweetheart!” He yelled, pulling back against Skull’s movements. “talk to him!”

  
  


“W-what!?” You cried, confused and panicked. Why you?! What was going on? Why was Skull acting like this!? “What do I _say?!”_

  
  


_“anything!”_ He shouted, his own eyelights starting to burn. _“just_ _ **talk!”**_

  
  


You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even know how to approach him- he looked like he’d kill you.

  
  


... You forced yourself to cautiously step toward him despite every instinct in your body screaming to run.

  
  


“Skull.” You said, trying to keep your voice calm, as if approaching a wild dog. You even found yourself reaching both your arms out. “Skull, listen to me.”

  
  


... A growl died in his throat, and he turned to look at you fully, his huge chest rising and falling rapidly.

  
  


You swallowed.

  
  


Being pinned by that eyelight was beyond terrifying.

  
  


“I-it’s ok.” You smiled, weakly. You didn’t even know what had _happened..._ Why had he exploded like that? Why was he so desperate to get away from Red and get to the door? “Promise. Everything’s fine.”

  
  


He was staring at you so intently with his burning eye... his smile fell at little. The growl in his throat was fading too, the closer you came.

  
  


You had no idea what to say. Words were just coming out, laced with nervousness. “I know you’re still there. Just breathe, okay? Then we can go talk about it. Or not. Whatever you want. You just need to calm down.” God, you really had no idea what you were doing.

  
  


“k-keep talking.” Red said, letting out a few cautious breaths. “he’s calming.”

  
  


You were close enough to touch him now, shadowed by his huge form. You had to maintain eye contact with that tiny, tiny eyelight that flickered as he looked back and forth between your eyes, doing your best to ignore the horrible smile. What could’ve possibly made him completely flip like this?

  
  


“It’s alright, see?” You said, soft, finally starting to calm a little. You reached up and cupped a cheekbone cautiously, relieved when there was no immediate violent reaction. “You don’t have to be angry.”

  
  


...

  
  


He let out a breath.

  
  


Then he wrenched his arms out of Red’s tired and faltered grip and sealed his hands around your _neck._

  
  


You were so shocked that all you could do was gasp a breath in and instinctively grab his thick wrists with your tiny hands as his giant mitts clamped down on, arguably, the most vulnerable part of your outer body. His hands were large enough for only one to encircle almost your whole throat anyway, what hope did you have against two? A rush of panic hit every part of your body at once, almost _dizzying,_ you distinctly saw movement in the corner of your eye, _don’t hurt me,_ a flash of blue, a loud shout and a crash as Red was thrown off-balance and back by Skull’s pulling action. Your wide eyes darted over and you saw Sans’s twisted expression- teeth bared back, one eye filled with a bright voltaic electric blue ring that lit up his whole socket, the other devoid of all light. His hand was outstretched as a flurry of bones formed around him in a split second.

  
  


... But something wasn’t right.

  
  


“N-no!” You cried at Sans, holding one arm out to him. “Nonononono! Stop! It’s okay! Don’t attack him _he’s not squeezing!”_

  
  


...

  
  


Sans’s arm dropped a little in apparent confusion as he held eye contact with your panicked form, the bones disintegrating. His brows were still drawn and his sockets were still burning with blue but it was gradually fading, Skull _hadn’t_ been impaled multiple times by giant sharp bones and you were still alive as far as you could tell so right now everything seemed to be as okay as you could make it.

  
  


“He’s not squeezing. He’s just holding. Don’t throw anything.” You were trying your best to stay calm and keep your rattling breathing even but there was something just so _panicking_ about having someone’s hands around your neck. He was the predator, you were the prey, and there was nothing you could do but hope he changed his mind. “D-don’t make him jump or startle.”

  
  


You looked up Skull slowly, the hand gesturing to Sans cautiously coming instead to the hands clasped around your neck. He still looked crazy, he still looked angry, he still had a disturbingly wide smile that you were starting to feel was the last thing a lot of people had seen, but... he’d paused. He was still searching your eyes for something with his miniscule eyelight and dark, dark face.

  
  


“It’s ok.” You said, as soft and calm as your shaky thin tone could manage, stroking across the chipped, rough bones of his hand with visible tremble. “S-Skull, it’s _ok.”_

  
  


... His grip loosened.

  
  


“Can you hear me?” You asked, even softer.

  
  


... His shoulders started to loosen. The corners of his grin fell.

  
  


Red was staring.

  
  


“...Come back.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


His eyelight _finally_ dilated. His grip on you was now lax enough to simply pull away from but you didn’t want to take that risk, arms and breathing shaking with the leftover adrenaline. The edges of the widening iris were blurred and wobbly, like looking up at the sun from deep under water.

  
  


You watched, silent, as giant tears collected in the corner and spilled down his face.

  
  


He finally let go of your neck, dropping to his knees like a fallen tree and wrapping both arms around your middle. Nobody moved to stop him. He pressed his face into your stomach, and...

  
  


Started... to sob.

  
  


Openly.

  
  


...

  
  


You didn’t know what to do.

  
  


You looked up, asking for help with your eyes- Red was standing now, staring at you and the crying giant clinging to your middle, looking completely lost and much like he’d prefer to leave this situation entirely. You turned to Sans, hoping to get something out of him- he was staring at Skull’s collapsed form with something akin to angered shock.

  
  


The best you could do was place your hands on Skull’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort him.

  
  


“i-i didn’t...” Skull choked out, between heaving breaths. “... mean to...”

  
  


“... Shh.” Was all you could say, moving one hand to pet the back of his massive skull. “Just breathe.”

  
  


He was trying to say something. _Desperately_ trying to say something between the tears, gripping the back of your shirt as his mouth simply couldn’t catch up with the words his mind was hopelessly throwing at him. He couldn’t calm down enough to sort his thoughts.

  
  


You held him, silent and overwhelmed, until he passed out in his own heartbreak.

  
  


\---

  
  


_frisk._

  
  


_frisk._

_f r i s k ._

  
  


_they left us all to die_

_they left pap to die_

_they left me to die_

_die_

_die_

_die_

_die_

**_they left us all to die_ **

  
  


[you won’t get away this time.]

  
  


i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself i’ll kill you myself why

why

why

w h y

_why did you leave us to die i thought you cared_

  
  


it’s my fault. i let you leave. i let you walk into the throne room, i smiled as you walked past me. i smiled as you planned to kill our king.

  
  


[how many times did i stand in that hall? thinking you would come back and start it over? thinking you would return to ‘save’ us?]

  
  


**what good is judgement if there is no one to act on it?**

**what good is a judge who doesn’t follow through with the sentence?**

  
  


**what good am i?**

  
  


not this time.

  
  


not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time not this time-

  
  


...

  
  


_red. let me go._

**_let go!_ **

  
  


**_THEY’RE GETTING AWAY, THEY’RE LEAVING AGAIN, RED LET GO, RED LET ME GO I HAVE TO GO AFTER THEM, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHAT IT’S LIKE TO SUFFER LIKE ME, YOU HAVE TO LET GO IT’S ALL GOING TO HAPPEN AGAIN, RED I’M GOING TO LOSE EVERYTHING AGAIN JUST STOP HOLDING ME LET GO LET GO LET GO LET GO LET GO_ **

  
  


**L E T G O O F M E .**

  
  


_..._

  
  


_of course blue doesn’t understand. using his magic on me to hold me still. of course_ _**he** _ _doesn’t get it. i thought red would get it. but neither of them know._

  
  


_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything. (y/n)?_

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything. why are you here_

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything. you wouldn’t_

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything. understand_

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything. no matter how much_

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything. i want you_

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything. to understand_

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything._

_they don’t understand what it’s like to be the one who let them ruin everything. you couldn’t._

  
  


**...**

  
  


you were talking to him.

  
  


nervous. but in soothing tones. it cleared the noise and the voices.

  
  


“I-it’s ok.”

  
  


_is it ever really?_

  
  


“Promise. Everything’s fine.”

  
  


You reached out, and he leant down the tiniest fraction in response, looking into your tiny sparkly eyes. _it’s only ever fine when you’re here._

  
  


“It’s alright, see?” Your hand was so soft. “You don’t have to be angry.”

  
  


...

  
  


angry.

  
  


_angry._ _**angry.** _ _hurt. guilty. my fault._

  
  


_can’t eat. can’t eat. suffering. they’re all wasting away. papyrus is hungry. hungry. i can’t eat, i’m not an animal, i don’t..._

  
  


_blood. d u s t ._

  
  


**_alphys. asgore. grillby. lady behind the door. the old undyne i used to know. mettaton. shopkeep. my friends. my family._ **

  
  


**_where did you all go?_ **

  
  


_w h o a r e y o u ?_

  
  


DON’T TOUCH ME.

  
  


I ’ L L K I L L Y O U .

  
  


...

  
  


....

  
  


......

  
  


.........

  
  


[i can’t kill them.]

  
  


...

  
  


_... what?_

  
  


[no. i won’t kill them.]

  
  


_what am i saying? who’s ‘them’?_

  
  


[i can’t hurt them. don’t make me hurt them.]

  
  


_who’s ‘them’!?_

  
  


[they're so small. they're scared of me. i’m making them _scared_ of me.]

  
  


_..._

  
  


_they're scared of me?_

  
  


**please don’t be scared of me.**

  
  


“i-i didn’t... mean to...”

  
  


...

  
  


_i get it now._

  
  


_i understand._

  
  


i want to tell them

i want them to know how i feel

  
  


... i can’t say it.

  
  


_let me say it._

i want to say it.

**please. why can’t i just speak?**

  
  


**why can’t i just say what’s in my head without stuttering for once?**

  
  


just let me say it to them.

  
  
  


let me say it before i lose my confidence

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


let me say it

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


let me say i love you


	17. They won't wait forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n comes to a realisation about their situation with their feelings for Sans.

_i knew it. i knew he was dangerous. i knew he was going to hurt them, one way or another._

  
  


“no.”

  
  


“Sans, just-”

  
  


“no. you’re not going in there with him. not after that.”

  
  


“You can’t-”

  
  


“i’m sorry, were we in different timelines earlier? because i thought i just saw him try to choke you.”

  
  


You blinked in shock at Sans’s tone. He was sat next to you on the couch, just finishing up checking over your neck for any signs of injury or bruising. If you knew him at all you’d say he probably _wanted_ to find an injury so he’d have a reason to hurt Skull. The feeling of his much smaller hands and less heavy aura was a welcome break and you were definitely making the most of him being this close.

  
  


“But he _didn’t_ choke me.” You insisted, trying to keep your voice light. You’d seen Skull’s face when he collapsed onto his knees and hugged your middle; that wasn’t the face of someone who meant to hurt you. You were almost 100% sure that, in whatever state he’d been in, he hadn’t been able to recognise you.

  
  


And sure, it’d terrified you, you understood where Sans was coming from and you’d needed a minute to calm down, but you just... someone who wanted to hurt you wouldn’t pet your hair, spend forever hugging you or coo at your hiccups, would he? Someone who wanted to hurt you wouldn’t ask you to sing for them to help them get to sleep.

  
  


He didn’t mean it.

  
  


“sure as fuck looked like he tried to.” Sans said, curt.

  
  


You glanced at him. “He just...”

  
  


Sans’s eyelights were hard when he looked at you, a crease between his brows and a stiff edge to his smile.

  
  


“he just _what?_ growled at you, tried to kill frisk, threw red to the ground and grabbed your neck?” He moved some of your hair away from your shoulder, scowl deepening. You hadn’t heard him talk like this since before you were friends... it made you a little nervous. You _knew_ he’d be upset but not like this. “we don’t even know what set him off, what could trigger him again... that might not even be the only thing that makes him go crazy.”

  
  


“I’ll just ask him.” You offered. “He talks to me.”

  
  


“what if next time, he doesn’t stop?” He moved away once he was sure you had no injuries, shoving his hands into his pockets and slouching in his seat, grimacing unpleasantly, a cloud hanging over him.

  
  


“... What?”

  
  


His voice increased in volume and emotion a little as he looked at you. “what if next time he goes batshit he snaps you like a _twig?_ do you know how easy that’d be for him?”

  
  


“It’d-”

  
  


“i could do it, and i’m... what, _half_ his physical strength? maybe less?”

  
  


He seemed so _upset._ Dark eyelights, furrowed brow, smile completely gone at this point. No trace of his goofy, happy persona.

  
  


“He’s got no reason to kill me.”

  
  


“he doesn’t _need_ a reason.” He snapped, looking away.

  
  


... You sighed.

  
  


...

  
  


His eyelights shrank a little, focused, voice sharp. “don’t sigh at me like i’m acting ridiculous.”

  
  


... You tried to lean forward to catch his eye. “... I never said you were ridiculous.”

  
  


“you’re sighing like i’m being over-the-top about this.” He gritted his teeth, voice full of an emotion akin to frustration and upset that you couldn’t put your finger on. _“he_ tries to _choke_ you and _i’m_ the one being ridiculous because i don’t trust him.”

  
  


... Nooononono. “Sans, I-”

  
  


“no, it’s _fine.”_ He got up from his seat. “go see him. go put your head in his mouth. no one ever listens to me anyway.”

  
  


“Sans, wait!” You got up- but... he was already gone, vanishing into thin air as fast as you could blink, leaving behind only the slight smell of his magic.

  
  


...

  
  


You stood there, with your hand outstretched.

  
  


...

  
  


He’d teleported on you.

  
  


He hadn’t done that in _months._

  
  


You stood there like an idiot for a moment, still expecting him to change his mind and come back. But as the seconds ticked by you realised that, no, he had vanished out on you for real.

  
  


Poof.

  
  


“he teleport?” Red’s voice was surprisingly close considering you hadn’t even heard him coming. You turned- he was leaning with both arms against the back of the sofa. His grin was still casual and flirty but his sockets had slight dark marks underneath and his hands were tightly bandaged.

  
  


... He noticed your line of sight.

  
  


“ah, they’re okay. just a bit sore.” He winked, wiggling them. “i’m made of tougher stuff than that.”

  
  


...

  
  


His smile fell a little.

  
  


“... sweetheart?”

  
  


You hadn’t even realised you were crying until hot tracks sped down your cheeks and dripped off your chin onto the carpet. You looked down, vision blurry, shoulders shaking.

  
  


“I-I didn’t...” Your voice wobbled. “I-I didn’t mean to make Sans...”

  
  


“... woah, woah, woah. hey. c’mere.”

  
  


You didn’t need to be told twice. You shuffled over to Red and he rushed a bit to meet you, moving around the sofa with brisk strides, until his big arms wrapped around you and pressed your face to his shoulder. You could tell immediately by his cactus-reminiscent hugging abilities that he was very unpractised with comforting crying people and _way_ outside his usual zone but you didn’t care, revelling in the slight reassurance his giant frame provided you.

  
  


He didn’t speak or attempt to console you beyond just holding you. He let you cry it out in silence, probably not quite sure what to do with himself.

  
  


But he was trying, and that’s what you appreciated.

  
  


Eventually you slowed down, wiping your eyes with the heels of your palms and moving away from him. He gave you a little pat on the shoulder, grin worried.

  
  


“... better?” He asked, silky voice soothing.

  
  


You nodded, scrubbing a bit more, humming in affirmation in the back of your throat.

  
  


Sans hadn’t acted that way toward you since back when he thought you were out to dust him in his sleep. It brought bad memories... you _never_ wanted to go back to that again.

  
  


“I-I got your hoodie wet.” You mumbled, looking at the little splotches of dark on the fabric.

  
  


“ey, it’s okay. not the kind of ‘gettin’ wet’ i was expecting, but i’ll take it.”

  
  


...

  
  


You giggled.

  
  


His shoulders dropped a little, immediately back in his comfort zone. Perhaps he just... never had to comfort anyone in his home universe, or never got comforted, so he never learned the little things, like rubbing their shoulder or telling them everything was going to be okay. The best he could do was hold you awkwardly and then try to tell a joke to ease the tension.

  
  


“i mean...” He bounced his brows, putting an arm around your shoulder. “i was hoping to get ya cryin’ my _name,_ but if _on my shirt_ is the best i’ll get...”

  
  


“St-stop.” You lightly slapped his arm. “I’m trying to be sad.”

  
  


“maybe next time you’ll be clingin’ to my jacket in a very different way, y’know?” He purred.

  
  


You groaned, halfheartedly, but... leant into his touch all the same. He responded, almost instinctively, by pulling you in a little closer to him, resting his skull on the top of your head while yours remained tucked by his shoulder.

  
  


“... don’t worry about blue.” He purred. “i’ll look after ya.”

  
  


You sighed to yourself, shutting your eyes. It felt nice to be close to Red in a non-sexual way... to just enjoy his company without being so flustered you could hardly think. Despite all you’d said earlier he was actually pretty good at comforting.

  
  


You missed the victorious edge to his tone.

  
  


After a little while, he pulled away, absentmindedly running a hand through your hair.

  
  


“you wanna go see skull, don’tcha?” He asked, rhetorically, looking into your eyes.

  
  


... You looked away, nodding. Was he _also_ going to get annoyed and strop at you?

  
  


“i’ll stand outside if it makes ya feel safer.”

  
  


...

  
  


“You’re letting me go in?” You blinked.

  
  


Red just smiled.

  
  


... You hugged him, tight, almost tearing up again, unspeakably relieved that at least _someone_ in this house was calm and level-headed.

  
  


\---

  
  


Red’s grin fell a little as you let go of him to go see the larger skeleton trapped behind the invisible magic barrier he and Blue had set up on the bedroom door.

  
  


In truth, he didn’t want you anywhere _near_ Skull. There were many things he could excuse- the creepy following, the constant staring, the standing outside the shower door listening to you singing, the holding onto you like you were a teddy... although they made Red uncomfortable and made something in his chest squeeze painfully in a feeling he didn’t recognise, he could write it off as Skull just being a creepy, fucked-up guy from a creepy, fucked-up universe.

  
  


And he _understood_ that, to a degree. He understood the feeling of finding one good thing in a shitty world, latching onto it and doing everything in your power to never let it go.

  
  


He looked at one of his bandaged, aching hands, brows pulling into a frown.

  
  


Skull’s first instinct when his mind was fried was to _grab you around the neck..._

  
  


... _That,_ he didn’t understand. And that he did _not_ like.

  
  


... In a single moment, he’d wanted you as far away from that broken sack of bones as possible. In fact, he would’ve been the one talking to you and telling you not to go in if Blue hadn’t beaten him to it because he was bandaging his hands. He’d walked in just in time to see Blue snap at you, stand up and vanish into thin air.

  
  


... Which had been the perfect opportunity for him to step in.

  
  


_that’s the thing._ Red thought, giving you a slightly painful thumbs up as you headed into their room to see Skull, such a grateful smile onyour face that his Soul thudded in a weird way. _blue beat me to tellin’ them not to go in. and he made a pig’s ear of it... he made them feel like shit._

  
  


_i don’t want 'em anywhere near skull. but if it means i get a one-up on blue? i’ll be on their side, no matter what crazy shit they want to do._

  
  


\---

  
  


Skull was already awake when you went in.

  
  


All the lights were off, the curtains were drawn and a chair was pulled up beside his bed. You hadn’t really had a good chance to see the inside of the boys’ room post-the-others-arriving... Three beds squeezed into the room, with barely enough space to slide between them. Sans’s was up against the wall, as per usual, Red’s was in the middle of the room and Skull’s had the head of the bed against the wall adjoining the door.

  
  


As close to the exit as possible.

  
  


His single burning eye, thankfully large and dilated, focused on you when you came in, glowing through the gloom in a familiar and friendly way. Even when lying down, he was absolutely _huge._

  
  


You had to try hard to not look at his hands.

  
  


“... Hey.” You said, voice quiet, sitting in the chair next to his bed and pulling it a little closer. He stared, for a moment, laying on his side, drinking in your expression and posture.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“what... happened?”

  
  


You blinked. He... didn’t remember?

  
  


“... You totally lost it.” You shuffled the chair closer still, trying to figure out how to put what happened in a way that didn’t make him feel like crap. You just... couldn’t help but want to make him feel better. It was instinctive. “Frisk came over and you went crazy. Red grabbed you and Sans was holding you with blue magic. I tried to calm you down, and you, uh...”

  
  


... You didn’t miss the way his expression flickered when you said Frisk’s name.

  
  


...

  
  


“... what?” He prompted, gentle voice heavy with nervousness.

  
  


“... You threw Red off and put your hands around my neck. But you didn’t squeeze. You just held on. ... I don’t even have any bruises.”

  
  


... A crease formed between his brows.

  
  


“... i... grabbed you?” He mumbled.

  
  


“... Yes. And then you calmed down and passed out.” Perhaps it was better to _not_ tell him about how he sobbed all over you.

  
  


...

  
  


You didn’t like the look on his face.

  
  


“Skull.” You leant across and placed your little hand over his giant one. “It’s alright. You didn’t hurt me.”

  
  


“...i grabbed your neck.” He looked down, his voice barely a whisper.

  
  


“And then let go straight after.” You reiterated.

  
  


... He didn’t look happy at _all._ He stared at your hand clasped over the top of his, eyelight shrinking a little and teeth parting- you could see the light from his iris escaping from between his sharp, sharp fangs.

  
  


Although you liked his calm face, you’d never forget the dark, insane expression he had as he fought to escape Red’s grasp.

  
  


“... Skull?”

  
  


The eyelight rolled over to you.

  
  


“... Did...” You stroked your thumb over the scratched, marred bone. “... Did something happen between you and Frisk in your timeline?”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Maybe now wasn’t the time for this. “You don’t have to-”

  
  


“yes.” He said, closing his working eye.

  
  


... You paused. His voice was surprisingly strong, more so than his usual soft, whispery tone.

  
  


Was he... going to tell you?

  
  


“... in... most timelines...” He opened the socket again, but only halfway, turning his hand over to hold yours. “... frisk... frees the monsters.”

  
  


“... Yeah.”

  
  


His iris shrank. “... not in mine.”

  
  


... A pit began to form in your stomach.

  
  


“... they left. killed asgore... never came back...” His iris shrank further, a strange, almost _angry_ distant look to him. A giant thumb delicately traced over the skin of your hand.

  
  


“... Skull...”

  
  


“we ran out of food. water. heat. ...core failed, no power. so little light.” The more he spoke, the more he seemed to sink into memories, and the more his pace picked up. “people started to starve. go crazy. new ruler was _cruel..._ waterfall became impassable. full of monsters and bogs and darkness... cut us off from hotland. groups tried to attack snowdin. we... pap an’ i... we did our best to protect them... provide for the people in snowdin, but there was nothing, no food, no other choice, a-and when the next human fell we just-”

  
  


His voice cut, like a coiled tether snapping, jaw clicking shut.

  
  


...

  
  


“... You... ate them?” You asked, feeling detached from your own words.

  
  


...

  
  


He nodded.

  
  


“... it was us, or him.”

  
  


...

  
  


You didn’t know what to say. You felt sick and your throat was tight, but... you weren’t afraid. You looked at him and saw the thin, strained smile, the crease between his brows, the wobbling eyelight, the gaping wound, the shallow cracks along his eyesockets and nasal ridge, and just... the _emotion_ in his face.

  
  


It looked like broken defeat.

  
  


...

  
  


“... I’m so sorry.” Was all you could say.

  
  


... But it clearly wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, given the haze of confusion that seemed to settle over his expression.

  
  


“... you’re... sorry?”

  
  


“I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like.”

  
  


“... no, you don’t...” His socket was wide and his mind was clearly trapped beneath years of unwanted memories. He pulled his hand away from yours. “... i _killed_ humans. fed them to...”

  
  


“Skull.” You cut over him as gently as possible, simply reaching your hand forward and re-taking his own, giving it a little squeeze.

  
  


You... weren’t sure _what_ to think. You looked down for a moment, closing your eyes- you certainly understood Sans’s discomfort at you being close to Skull a little more now, and you didn’t know if it was just your mind not wanting to process what he’d told you but for some reason you just...

  
  


... You just didn’t... mind...?

  
  


“You did what you had to. And I can clearly see you didn’t want to. It’s alright.”

  
  


“... it’s...?”

  
  


“I wasn’t lying when I told you I’d never be scared of you.”

  
  


... You couldn’t read his face. So you just smiled, and squeezed his hand one more time.

  
  


“I have to go now. I’ll come by later, ok?”

  
  


... No reply.

  
  


You let go of his hand and left, shutting the door gently behind you.

  
  


... And almost immediately after you left the room, your phone buzzed. You checked, surprised and wondering who it was-

  
  


A message from _Hit._

  
  


17:02

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** hey dollface, some guy i work with sent a picture to me and called it a ‘dank meme’. do you have any idea what that is? what’s a ‘meme’? and why is it dark/humid?

  
  


... You actually giggled. Immediately, a weight lifted off your chest; stepping away from the drama and past trauma and overprotective skeleton situation you were in for a little while seemed _perfect_.

  
  


**\- You:** oh my innocent flower

 **\- You:** I’ll tell you on one condition

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** and what would that be?

  
  


**-You** : You free?

  
  


**-hit or miss:** yes

  
  


**\- You:** Be at bridge park cafe in 45 mins

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** well, doll, that’s hardly a condition.

 **\- hit or miss:** i’ll see you there.

  
  


\---

  
  


The cafe was a cute one- a small-ish building in the middle of a park, that made up for it’s lack of interior space with a large array of metal tables outside. The inside was a warm colour and had room for two or three tables beside the counter, sporting a glass display of various cakes and sandwiches. You didn’t really come here often, because this particular park was further away than the one you typically went to with Sans, but it didn’t stop it from being one of your favourite places in the whole area.

  
  


You waited outside the cafe on one of the metal chairs. You were surprised at how empty it was today; usually this place was _packed_ in the spring. But today it was just you, and a dad with his kid a few tables away.

  
  


“well, wouldja look at that. we’re _both_ early.” Came Hit’s _very_ welcome purr from nearby- you looked up to see him approaching your table, a pleasant and genuinely _happy_ smile on his face. Black pants and a crisp white shirt rolled up to the elbows; God _damn_ this guy knew how to look sharp. You thought him cleaning up that good was maybe just a one-off the first time you met, seeing as he’d been in that suit and you’d _always_ had a thing for guys in suits. But no- looking sharp in what he wore seemed to be a _personality_ _trait_ of his.

  
  


You grinned up at him as he sat opposite you. Immediately, his different, casual, happy atmosphere made you feel _so_ much better. Talking and hanging out with Hit seemed much better than processing the fact that one of your closest friends just told you he killed and fed humans to his village to keep them alive.

  
  


“Ready for me to tell you what a ‘dank meme’ is?” You teased.

  
  


He rolled his warm, ember eyelights, voice full of amusement. “at this point i feel like a fool for askin’, toots. this a date or a learning session?”

  
  


“Not sure.” You hummed, getting out your phone. “Can’t be both at once.”

  
  


“then enlighten me, doll.” He leant on the table with one arm, resting his chin on his palm. “i wanna get to the ‘date’ part.”

  
  


You tried not to blush too hard as you quickly googled ‘meme’ on your phone and went to the Wikipedia page for the easiest definition. You cleared your throat, and read aloud.

  
  


“A meme is an idea, behaviour, or style that spreads from person to person within a culture, often with the aim of conveying a particular phenomenon, theme, or meaning represented by the meme.” You made your voice cool, calm and jokingly robotic. “A meme acts as a unit for carrying cultural ideas, symbols, or practices, that can be transmitted from one mind to another through writing, speech, gestures, rituals, or other imitable phenomena with a mimicked theme.”

  
  


He narrowed his sockets, tilting his head to the side. “so, it’s like... a running joke?”

  
  


“Yes. Exactly.” You nodded. “But it’s from the ‘internets’,” _intense_ air quotes “and it runs between loads of people. ... What was the meme you got sent?”

  
  


“some guy with a beard yelling something in swedish.”

  
  


“... Aaah.”

  
  


“i still can’t get over this... _internet_ thing.” He said, pulling out his own phone and staring at the black screen. It was different to the one he showed you last time...? “i can find pretty much _any_ info i want at any time with the right key words and phrases.”

  
  


You hummed to yourself. “Yeah, was pretty crazy when it came out. ... So... you don’t have internet in your home universe?”

  
  


“we don’t even have _cellphones_ , toots.” He grinned at you.

  
  


... Damn. “When did you say you were from?”

  
  


“1920s.” He chuckled.

  
  


_“Christ.”_ You wheezed, turning and looking at him fully. _1920s!?_ “You _are_ a grandpa!”

  
  


... He started to snicker at that, eyelights bright with mirth.

  
  


“Naw, fuck, dude, you’re a _great great_ grandpa!” You exclaimed, encouraged by his positive reaction but also trying hard not to laugh too, your shoulders shaking. “You _must_ be around 100 years old. That’s _insane.”_

  
  


“sure is, doll.” He glanced around at the area, an odd look coming over him. “100 years in the future looks... i gotta admit, it looks a lot _less_ futuristic than i imagined? ya mostly got taller buildings, some weird looking block cars and _much_ brighter clothes... all yer time went into this internet thing.”

  
  


“So, wait.” You shuffled your chair around the table to sit closer to him. “Why do you sound like a normal guy if you’re 100 years old?”

  
  


He leaned a little closer too, smiling. “oh, believe me, i arrived talkin’ like my old self. shoulda seen the looks on people’s faces when i was tellin’ them to ‘stop being a dewdropper’.”

  
  


“Dew _what?”_ You giggled, totally enraptured.

  
  


“mhm.” His grin widened at your laughter. “the best was the reactions to saying ‘butt me’.”

  
  


_“B-butt_ me!?” You parroted, unable to contain yourself.

  
  


He snickered, leaning back a bit. “one of my guys looked me square in the eyes and said ‘boss, i don’t mean anything by it, but... are you gay?’. at that point i was sick and tired of people not understanding what i was sayin’, so i just yelled ‘a _smoke,_ you bastard, does anyone have a fucking smoke!?’ and next thing i knew some dude named sam was teaching me how to ‘not sound like you just walked off a movie set so people’ll take you serious’.”

  
  


You snorted unattractively. But you noted that someone called him boss- for however little time he’d been here, he’d already managed to set up a business of some kind? That’s impressive! “I-I guess ‘butt me’ makes sense, though. More so than ‘dewdropper’.”

  
  


“glad at least _someone_ thinks so.”

  
  


“... Hey, hey... think you could flirt with me in your 1920s slang?” You asked, half-joking, leaning on the table a bit more and winking obviously.

  
  


His brow bones flew up, and for a moment you thought that you were going too far by asking that, somehow... but the smile that broke out on his features immediately told you otherwise.

  
  


“you’s a choice bit o’ calico, baby.” He purred, winking back. His voice was almost completely different, accent heavier, thicker. “wanna get half-seas over and neck till we pass out?”

  
  


“... I have _no_ idea what you said, but it sounded _amazing.”_

  
  


He chuckled. “i overdid it a little, for the effect.”

  
  


... Your stomach grumbled embarrassingly loudly.

  
  


Your laugh and flush now turned _very_ awkward as you started to think of the cakes and sandwiches waiting for you in the cafe.“Wanna get something to eat? I’m starving.”

  
  


“well, y’know, this place is real cute...” He looked around at the park, then back at you, an odd look coming over his face. “but i know somewhere _much_ nicer i can take you.”

  
  


“... Somewhere nicer?” You tilted your head. “You know I can’t do expensive da-”

  
  


“it’s okay, doll, i get in for free.” He said, standing, holding out his hand to you. “don’t worry. it’s my treat.”

  
  


... You thought for a moment.

  
  


... Well. What could go wrong?

  
  


You took his hand.

  
  


\---

  
  


“How the _hell_ do you get in _here_ for _free?!”_

  
  


It was a private restaurant venue. And a _fancy_ one, at that. A decently sized room with a bar and a table by a window, completely empty save for the two of you. The walls were dark, a purple/black/blue combo not very dissimilar from the colour of the darkness of space, but from the ceiling hung what seemed to be a lightbulb surrounded by sky-coloured crystals that scattered the light in a very pleasant way. Gentle music, a song you weren’t really paying attention to, filled the air from... _somewhere._

  
  


Hit led you by the hand to the table- white clothed, and a single, blue-flamed candle lit in the centre.

  
  


“owner is a monster i’ve done business with before.” He purred. “just... callin’ in a favour.”

  
  


“This is literally a candlelit dinner.” You looked down at your clothes- you’d at least made a little effort because you were going out to see Hit... nice jeans, your favourite shirt. But nothing worthy of a fancy, probably secretly expensive meal.

  
  


“hey.” Hit said, stopping, and you looked up from disliking your appearance. His sockets were soft, golden tooth glittering in the dancing blue light from the candle. “you look perfect.”

  
  


“I look like _me.”_

  
  


“like i said.” He pulled you in close by one hand pressed against the small of your back. “perfect.”

  
  


... You flushed. “Says the guy who cleans up nice in literally _anything_ he wears.”

  
  


His sockets blinked open a little. ...Was that a blush of his own dusting his cheekbones?

  
  


“... dance with me?”

  
  


...

  
  


You almost said no. For a split second, when you opened your mouth, you were going to say no, because of how you felt for Sans, and...

  
  


You...

  
  


...

  
  


... But you had a small flashback.

  
  


That day at Grillby’s with Sans, that felt so long ago, back when it was just the two of you in your little untouched universe. Back when it’d been so quiet, when you really wondered if you ever stood a chance at being with him. You’d gone to Grillby’s together, a new song came on, and you... asked him to dance with you.

  
  


_His sockets snapped wide open, and he snatched his arm away like you’d burnt it._

  
  


_You blinked, taken aback as he rounded on you. Without warning and for no apparent reason, the playfulness had completely vanished, replaced with frustration, harsh eyelights and a nonexistent smile. “i said no! jesus christ!”_

  
  


... You’d felt so small, so confused, and so _rejected._ The expression he’d had when you looked into his eyelights was still a fresh wound in your memory.

  
  


And just today, he’d gotten so _angry_ at you, and teleported away from you without letting you speak. Here you were, with Hit... someone who wanted to dance with you. You were looking up into soft eyelights, not hard ones. Your hand was still in his.

  
  


Your mouth shut.

  
  


... You weren’t getting anywhere with Sans. Who knew if you ever would? At this rate, given his clear disinterest and almost _repulsion_ at anything romantic with you, you stood little to no chance with him. So why keep yourself romantically like this? You had his friendship and that was all you were getting.

  
  


You had Red and his obvious attraction. You had Skull and his sweet, gentle adoration. And now, you had Hit.

  
  


What harm would one dance do?

  
  


“Yes.”


	18. Warmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys are acting strange.

_of_ _ **course**_ _it’s_ that _time of year._

  
  


Everyone’s been acting _weird._

  
  


You weren’t entirely sure why or what, but something was off with the guys.

  
  


You’d gotten home from your (wonderful) date with Hit, spinning slightly from the wine he’d shared with you over that delicious meal. What had he called it... Waterfall Lily wine? He said it was a rare, hard-to-reach plant in the Underground that grew on tiny islands in amongst the glowing algae-rich waters of Waterfall.

  
  


But _boy_ was it delicious in a glass. Sweet and fragrant, dark purplish blue in colour... You definitely would’ve been hammered at the end of the night had Hit not effectively cut you off by the second glass.

  
  


You came home around 8, kicking off your shoes and announcing your presence to the apartment. You couldn’t help but briefly wonder if Sans was back yet... What would you say to him if he was...?

  
  


... When you got to the kitchen it was only Skull and Red at the table. There were some glasses and plates on the table and Red seemed to be talking in a low voice. But... the moment you walked in, their gazes _snapped_ to each other and held, fast, the lightness of the air dropping like a snitch with stone boots.

  
  


You paused, mouth open hanging open in your greeting that was interrupted by their staring contest.

  
  


... Weren’t those two usually... _tolerant_ of each other?

  
  


Before you could blink, they were both up out their chairs, a blur of movement and hoodies. You squeaked, loudly- you had one hand caught by Red in a tight grip as he teleported to your side, and the other caught by Skull in a much laxer hold, a chair clattering to the floor with how fast they got up.

  
  


“H-hey!” You exclaimed. “What-”

  
  


A bolt of electricity seemed to pass between their eyelights.

  
  


_Fuck._

  
  


“skull.” Red grinned, eyelights dark, and yet... burning with magic.

  
  


“red.” Skull hummed, unmoving, like a statue.

  
  


Their scents were almost overpowering but laced with an odd undertone that made you feel even _more_ buzzed than just the alcohol. Your brows furrowed in confusion; you felt like you’d smelled that before...? A few times, that sharper, primal, lulling scent had been radiating off Sans before he went on a week-long visit to see his brother and left you in the apartment to yourself.

  
  


And like hell you’d ever admit it but _damn_ it smelled good. Who was growling? One of them was definitely growling. You couldn’t tell who- maybe both?

  
  


“what’re you doing there bro?” Red asked, tight, seemingly referencing Skull’s grip on your hand.

  
  


“holding.” Skull answered, simply, never breaking eye contact. “and you?”

  
  


“holdin’ too. you should let go. was gonna spend some quality time with my favourite human now they're back.”

  
  


“Favourite hu-?”

  
  


“no.”

  
  


“it wasn’t a request, buddy.” Okay yes Red _definitely_ growled. Deep and back-throated, unique in it’s own way.

  
  


You’d noticed that at this point, having heard the amount of growling you’d heard. Skull’s growls were almost _exactly_ like those of a lion, rolling and terrifyingly low, warning of the impending unimaginable danger to your life he could cause. A reminder that he was large and powerful and, yes, you should run, and yes, you _should_ be afraid. Sans’s growls were higher and more like a snappy pissed dog- he can behave himself, he has control, but he can also maul you on the spot if he wished. And Red’s growls... they were a lot harder to pin down. Lighter than Skull, deeper than Sans. A growl of his own. Perhaps like a tiger, but... less throaty?

  
  


Either way, something about that sound was different today. Instead of immediately having a reaction of fear or anger, you...

  
  


... Felt turned on!?

  
  


Right. Nope.

  
  


Fast as you could, you yanked your hands out of their grips and darted for the door, passing under before either of them could stop their stare-off or notice the giant pink patches growing along your cheeks. You heard a shout- another clatter- but you were in your room before they even called your name, door slamming shut and locking quickly, chest heaving with a confused mix of excitement and fear.

  
  


“ey, _ey!_ sweetheart, c’mon. it’s okay.” Red’s voice was suddenly very near to the door. Heavy footsteps in the corridor told you Skull had followed- you instinctively pressed yourself closer to the door, as if holding it shut.

  
  


“I’m not coming out!” You said, voice _almost_ cracking.

  
  


_It must be the wine._ You told yourself. _The wine and whatever smell they’re putting off- it’s making me enjoy being_ growled _over like a chew toy. This is mortifying!_

  
  


“aw, please? i haven’t spoken to you for like... however long you were out on yer own for.” Red grumbled.

  
  


“I’m not coming out until you two stop posturing at each other.” You said, taking control of your own vocal chords again, clearing your throat once to dispel the embarrassment. “Either quit it, or go away.”

  
  


“we ain’t posturing.”

  
  


“... we are.”

  
  


...

  
  


“yeah, okay, we totally are.” Red muttered. “but we can’t help it.”

  
  


“Go!” You barked.

  
  


... They both grumbled, but left, feet dragging with sulky footsteps.

  
  


You sighed to yourself once you were certain they were in the living room (the sound of the tv starting up was enough info) and flopped back onto your bed, kicking off your nice jeans and removing your phone from your pocket. You rolled over, onto your stomach, opening the messenger app and shooting another quick text at Sans.

  
  


20:21

  
  


**\- You:** hey dude

 **\- You:** where did you go?

 **\- You:** I’m not mad at you you can come back

 **\- You:** what time are you coming back?

 **\- You:** at least tell me where you are

  
  


...

  
  


... Nope, still nothing.

  
  


You sighed again and plugged your phone in to charge, staring to actually worry a little. What if he’d teleported himself into a ditch by accident or something, and for some reason couldn’t get out? No one would know where he was!

  
  


You rolled onto your back again and groaned, sliding both hands down your face.

  
  


You just... really hoped he was okay.

  
  


\---

  
  


Sans wasn’t okay.

  
  


He was far from okay.

  
  


He was _sobbing._

  
  


He had no idea where all these pent up emotions were coming from (well- that was a complete lie) but the second you’d sighed something in him had _snapped_ in hurt, and anger and _jealousy._

  
  


He’d teleported to the first empty location that’d popped into his head.

  
  


An abandoned, mostly-only-used-by-druggies-park on the other side of town that you’d never visited. It was completely silent at this time of evening, and he’d just...

  
  


He’d just crumpled into a little ball with his back against a cold brick wall and broken down into tears.

  
  


It _hurt._

  
  


All over his Soul he could feel ricochets of pain, shooting outwards and making his chest tighten horribly as beads of liquid rolled down his cheekbones. He clutched over it, gasping for breath, _fuck_ he wanted to go back and hold you, he’d only been gone a few moments and he already missed you _so bad..._ his teeth gritted in pain... H-he didn’t _mean_ to storm out on you, he knew it was wrong, but he... he...

  
  


_god, i’m so pathetic._ He couldn’t stop the thoughts crowding in his skull- his hand grated against his head as he curled in on himself. _storming off like a fucking child... no wonder they like the others so much more. i’m nothing like them. i’m not big and strong, i’m not dependent, i can’t sweep them off their feet, i can’t serenade them with a deep voice or any shit like that. they like the others so much, they don’t..._

  
  


Another sob wracked his whole body and he curled in on himself further, unbreaking smile still plastered to his face.

  
  


_... why can’t i be like them!?_

  
  


_i’m so stupid. quick tempered... gross, inconsiderate, petty, snappish, unfunny, pathetic... curling in a corner in a park so no one will see me cry. i hate this._

  
  


Not good enough. Never good enough. He chuckled to himself, hollow, echoing, eyelights replaced with empty voids.

  
  


_i never asked to feel like this._

  
  


The light from the still-bright sky lit up the tear tracks on his cheekbones. He scrubbed at his sockets but it was no use, more fresh tears kept spilling out, free now that he didn’t have to constantly be strong in front of the others to maintain dominance.

  
  


_i never asked to feel this way about them._

  
  


His teeth gritted together forcefully in an attempt to stop the other whimpers that were breaking through. His chest and shoulders bounced with restrained cries, more thoughts swarming. Whispering to him that he wasn’t _enough,_ he’d _never_ be like them, he’d _never_ be what you wanted.

  
  


_why do i have to keep loving them?! what kind of fucked-up divine punishment is this!? make me fall in love with someone and just drive home how i’ll never be enough for them!?_

  
  


_why won’t it stop!?_

  
  


He almost screamed into his hands, cries shaking his whole frame, teeth biting into the arm of his hoodie in a futile attempt to muffle the sounds. He wished he didn’t love you- he _wished_ he could just move on, just find someone else, someone who wasn’t so wonderful and good and so far beyond a fucking trash goblin like him.

  
  


_i hate this._ Anger flared up in his chest. _i hate me. they probably hate me too. i’m not good enough. i’ll never be good enough. even if i send the imposters away, it'll be hard to forget how much better they are than me._

  
  


He growled to himself, tears finally slowing.

  
  


_all they’ll do is look at me and wish i was taller like red, or softer-spoken like skull, or more funny like red, or more cuddly like skull, or beefy like red, or tall like skull, or..._

  
  


_... or..._

  
  


_... like anything..._

  
  


_... anything that isn’t..._

  
  


_... just me._

  
  


_..._

  
  


_..._

  
  


_i just want them to love_ me.

  
  


...

  
  


... He shook his head and stood, using his already-damp hoodie sleeve to remove the remaining marks on his face. One of the bonuses of being a skeleton monster; unless the tears were literally still glittering on your cheekbones nobody could tell you’d been crying.

  
  


He sighed, deeply. He wanted to go back, he really did, but... he didn’t know what to do.

  
  


He was going into heat, after all.

  
  


One the one hand, it was safer for you if he stayed away like he normally did. Just... so much safer in general. No urges to hold back, no opportunities for awkward situations. His biannual one week ‘visits’ to Papyrus usually just entailed locking himself in his room (for private time) and moping around, grumpiness dialled to 10. Maybe a long time ago that would’ve aided him to be... I dunno, more protective of his mate? More effective at fighting for one in the first place? But nowadays, it just meant he was constantly pissed off at every tiny thing. It was safer for you if he was out of there.

  
  


But... he also knew that right now, there were two other large dominant males at the house currently going into heat. And with Sans gone and a potential mate just sitting there like a caged bird, they’d be even _more_ violent with each other and possibly get you caught in the middle- the alpha spot (and the _rights_ that came with it) was open and it was anyone’s game. If Sans was there to affirm the top position they’d be much more mellowed out... so arguably, you’d be safer if he was there...

  
  


Leave and keep you safe... or _stay_ and keep you safe?

  
  


He groaned, wiping some dirt off his ass. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated... he was so pent up, he just wanted to-

  
  


“Hey! It’s that fucker!”

  
  


... He blinked in surprise, looking up.

  
  


Hooded figures approaching him. Five of them... They looked like lanky teenagers, several inches of height on him, smelling of smoke and the musty, damp smell that came from places like the underneath of bridges and buildings. Approaching people rarely _ever_ surprised him or caught him off guard. One had a well-used skateboard tucked under one arm and two others had large metal pipes crudely crooked at the end; Sans cocked a brow, sticking his hands in his pockets, grin picking up a little. How old were they... _17?_

  
  


“... evening fellas. can i help you?”

  
  


One of the teens, his dark hoodie effect ruined by the giant red and white ‘Supreme’ logo on the front, pointed his bar at Sans and shouted “You’re the bastard who put the exploding can full of cream into my cash register!”

  
  


“hey, c’mon.” Sans raised his hands, winking, grinning like a cheshire cat at the memory. “you wouldn’t serve me ‘cus i was a monster. let’s not _whip_ up a fuss about this. eye for an eye, after all.” He tapped his empty socket.

  
  


“...The hell do you mean ‘exploding can of cream’?” One of the other teens, weaponless, asked his friend.

  
  


“He’d tripped the nozzle to press when the cash machine opened.” The first one grumbled, scowling, threatening persona falling for a moment. “It went all over my fucking uniform and up the wall when I tried to give someone change.”

  
  


Sans grinned. “you went white as a sheet, buddy.”

  
  


“Shut the FUCK up!” He yelled.

  
  


“no need to s‘cream’ about it.” God, he was feeling better already, looking at them under lax lidded sockets with dangerously sharp eyelights. He really, _really_ hoped this escalated.

  
  


“... Speaking of _screaming.”_ The first teen said, stepping forward, hitting the end of the bar against the flat of his gloved hand. “We figured we’d teach you a _lesson_ about fucking with humans. This is _our_ surface- you’re just here because we’re letting you be. You should learn your place, _monster.”_

  
  


Sans kept grinning.

  
  


“Lucky we found you all alone, too.” One of the other armed guys, previously silent, said. He was larger than his friends- broader in the shoulder, more triangular, less beanpoley.

  
  


“yep.” Sans grinned wider. “i’m _very_ lucky.”

  
  


... They paused.

  
  


_“You’re_ lucky?”

  
  


“absolutely.”

  
  


He closed his sockets for only a moment, feeling the familiar electrical buzz through his whole body, allowing the festering magic in his bones to finally bloom and take physical shape into an attack. He didn’t really know or care what attack formed- but judging by the horrified cries from the humans in front of him it was the larger of his blasters. The poised, sharp, and _smiling_ maw cracked open the slightest to allow a glimpse into the beating void inside.

  
  


And when he opened his sockets again, the familiar ring of crackling blue and yellow was back.

  
  


He wouldn’t kill them, no...

  
  


But he’d have some fun.

  
  


“we’re alone... that means **n o w i t n e s s e s . ”**

  
  


\---

  
  


Red was missing.

  
  


By the time you finally emerged from your hideout, it was just Skull in the room, lying on the far-too-small couch and staring at a blank television with an odd smile on his face. He sat up when he saw you... and it took all of a single hug for you to convince him he needed to head to bed for real instead of napping on that tiny patch of fabric. He could barely get his legs all the way out.

  
  


“... Any idea where Red is?” You asked, walking very close to him. You didn’t exactly have a choice- he had one arm around you as he pressed his nasal gap to the side of your face and couldn’t seem to be able to decide if he wanted to touch the bare skin on your arms or play with a stray twizzle of hair.

  
  


“went out.”

  
  


Ah. So that’s why he’s smiling. He’s got the whole house to himself. “Where?”

  
  


“to drink.” He mumbled, finally settling on skin, stroking his massive thumb back and forth over your forearm.

  
  


Most likely Grillby’s, then. “I see. I’ll go out looking for him.”

  
  


Skull sat down obediently on his bed when you led him (you didn’t miss how he reflexively ducked a little, the top of the door narrowly missing the top of his head by probably less than an inch). He was half asleep anyway, slightly unsteady when walking, and when he sat his socket closed completely already.

  
  


“... thank you.” He mumbled, moving to lie down, not letting go of your hand.

  
  


“... Hm?” You looked up.

  
  


“... for not... being scared.” He hummed, eyesockets still shut and smile low, but turned up at the corners.

  
  


... You couldn’t help but smile too, at that. He looked so relaxed, so happy... it made you feel so good.

  
  


“Told you. I never will.”

  
  


He was asleep within the hour.

  
  


Once his grip on your hand went lax (allowing you to leave in the first place) you grabbed a jacket and left the apartment into the slightly cold dark. Grillby’s was only a few minutes away so you picked up the pace, hands stuffed in your pockets. And as you approached the doors of the pub/restaurant, you couldn’t help but wonder where Sans was... Would he be home by the time you got back...?

  
  


...

  
  


You stepped in.

  
  


Immediately, the warmth and chatter and smell soothed your Sans-related nerves so well you almost grinned and you briskly crossed the floor upon seeing the familiar broad outline perched at a stool at the bar.

  
  


“Red?” You asked, coming up to the bar and leaning on it so you could see his face resting on the bar top. He was slumped over, nursing a bright yellow drink with an oddly pensive grin on his face. “You good, buddy?”

  
  


He blinked at the sound of your voice and looked up with startlingly dim eyelights- that immediately flared to life, along with his grin, when he made eye contact.

  
  


“h-heeeeeyyyy~!” He sat up, and before you could speak he looped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you right in close to him.

  
  


“H- _oof-_ Red-!” _Fuck_ he was strong. It was like being grabbed by an unmoving concrete bar.

  
  


“s’my favourite human _ever.”_ He lightly pinched your cheek with the same hand that was wrapped tightly around your shoulders, pulling a little teasingly. “aww, didja come all this way _jus_ t’ see me?”

  
  


Grillby, removing someone’s used glasses and plates on a tray on the other side of the bar, glanced over at you at the sound of Red’s sudden loud laugh when you swatted at his face. You gave your best wave at the bartinder from your trapped positions and Grillby put the tray down to approach the two of you.

  
  


“hey, small orange grillby.” Red smooshed the side of his face right up against yours, a twinkle of something unfamiliar in his eyelights. Despite being squished up against him like a toy you couldn’t help but giggle a little at his sheer dumb attitude and happy, drunk persona. “this is my favourite human ever. one i was tellin’ ya about. best butt in the world, grillbs.”

  
  


You rolled your eyes. “Flattering. How drunk are you?”

  
  


“mmmmvery.” He purred, raising his brows, looking down at the unfinished yellow drink and the similar glasses strewn about. “underestimated the... uh... whassit called, grillbs?”

  
  


Grillby crackled like a log fire, pushing his own glasses (the seeing kind, not the drinking kind) up his face.

  
  


Red squinted in confusion. “motor _what?_ that’s such a fuckin’ dumb name-”

  
  


“Come on, big guy. Let’s head home.” You cut across him, looping your arm under his shoulder. He got the point and slid off his stool, stumbling a little, but holding on to you. “Have you paid?”

  
  


“noope.” He grinned, smug. “hehe.”

  
  


You rolled your eyes again, having seen this coming, digging your hand into your pocket for your card. But Grillby held up his hand, the light glimmering off the empty shot glasses on the bar.

  
  


“........... he’s a Sans.” Grillby said, hissing voice filled with mirth. “......... it’s free.”

  
  


You blinked. _A Sans!?_ “... You know?” How much did Red drunkenly spill?

  
  


... He nodded, chuckling. “....... easy to tell.”

  
  


“But you’re...”

  
  


“.......... used to help Sans with his science. don’t worry, wasn’t ‘Red’. and I won’t tell anyone.”

  
  


“... Thank you.” You smiled, and looked down at all the drinks. You’d probably have to tell Sans about this... once he’s back, I mean. “I don’t think I could pay for how much he’s downed anyway.”

  
  


Another crackly chuckle.

  
  


“Come on, you big spiky asshole.” You shifted Red’s weight a little, turning. He grumbled. “Home time.”

  
  


“....... be careful.” Grillby said. You turned a little to look at him- he was already picking up some of the glasses. His gaze, as always, was indecipherable. “it’s _that_ time of year.”

  
  


“... Oh.” You said, confused, brows pulling together slightly. “... Thank you...?”

  
  


... _That_ time of year...?

  
  


You walked Red out of Grillby’s, glad it wasn’t that far back home, because although the drunken giant beside you was doing his best to walk he wasn’t exactly light as a feather and he stumbled multiple times while simply getting out the door. He mumbled some sloppy goodbye’s and you were surprised when most of the bar said goodbye back- he’d made a lot of friends in a very short amount of time, apparently.

  
  


Your brows pulled even further together as you tried to make sense of what Grillby said. ‘That time of year’... What was he talking about? Did he mean January blues? But he’s a bartender... maybe an in-joke for bar regular, an alcohol-designated month, maybe? Like Destroy Dick December but with drinking... like... ‘Alcohol April’ or something?

... Yearly monster periods?

  
  


You were drawn out of your reverie by Red stumbling into you and pressing a clumsy kiss to the side of your face.

  
  


“gimme a proper smooch babyyyy.” He slurred, nuzzling closer even as you tried to walk.

  
  


“No.” You sighed, ignoring the heat in your cheeks at him being so close.

  
  


“so evil. i’m _so_ hurt.”

  
  


“Yes. I’m so cruel.” Thank God the apartment building was close.

  
  


Just outside, a small group of people had gathered. Nothing serious- a few humans having a chat before going somewhere, probably. You didn’t recognise them... they didn’t live in the complex.

  
  


But as you approached with a very drunk Red mithering you for a kiss, they all seemed to giggle and turn toward each other. Your brow furrowed and lips tightened as a few words like ‘monster’ and ‘skeleton’ caught your attention, drifting through the air like smoke.

  
  


“Imagine having a boyfriend who’s a monster _and_ gets trashed all the time.” One girl said, her voice just above a whisper, clearly not intending for you to hear. Truth be told you only caught a few snippets of what she’d said but you could infer the rest.

  
  


_“HEY!”_ You exclaimed, chest puffing, pissed and stopping in your tracks before you could stop yourself or think about what you actually planned to say to them.

  
  


They jumped and whirled around to look at you, two of them going bright red- another spluttering something. And although you were relieved that they weren’t the violent type of racist you were still pretty angry that they’d make a comment like that.

  
  


Red hummed in appreciation beside you, leaning a little more into you. “s’okay baby. don’t let ‘em get to you.”

  
  


“We’re _not_ dating!” You said.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“... We’re _married!”_

  
  


“What?!”

  
  


“Yes.” You reiterated, glaring. You weren’t sure entirely where it came from, nor why you chose _that_ of all things... maybe because you felt like indignantly yelling that you weren’t dating him sounded like you were grossed out at the thought? Maybe because you just wanted to get back at them? But either way, you looped your arm tighter around Red’s middle. “Married.”

  
  


“dawww, darlin’.” Red purred, nuzzling against you. Even when he was drunk he was sharp enough to easily pick up what you’d started and run with it. “ya don’t have to talk to them. let’s just enjoy our night out, yeah?”

  
  


“Monster human marriages are _legal...?”_ One girl whispered, with a shocked tone, looking to her friends. Realising (with a slight nervous heartbeat) you hadn’t thought of that at all, you just marched past them with Red, refusing eye contact and hoping they didn’t call you out on your lie.

  
  


“Come on _dear._ Home time.” You hissed.

  
  


... They didn’t call you out.

  
  


Red was seemingly getting his feet back by the time you had to go up the stairs, thankfully, because the _moment_ the two of you were out of earshot of the group he just _looked_ at you with this face of pure ‘oh my god you just did that’ and the two of you burst into completely uncontrollable laughter that would’ve caused you to accidentally drop him. His laugh was so handsome, so rich and deep... but it was impossible to concentrate on it when the two of you were just standing outside the apartment door holding onto each other for support because you were both wheezing.

  
  


“w-we’re _married_ now?” Red managed to squeeze out, helping you stand up again to get your key in the door.

  
  


“Apparently!” You snorted, wiping a tear with a free hand and pushing the door open with your hip, giving it a little kick so it shut on its own behind you. Stumbling to their room broke you into another fit of chuckles for no reason and Red seemed more than happy to encourage.

  
  


“i-i should get you a real ring.” He said, voice still heavy with alcohol, laying down. You were surprised how easy it was to put skeletons to bed- they just seemed to follow your touch with no complaints. “a lil’ plastic happy meal toy ring. whenever people get racist i just put it on you an’ propose on the spot. ask ya to mcmarry me.”

  
  


You giggled, shaking your head. “Oh my God. You’re such a goof, Red.”

  
  


... A tight feeling over your wrist and a rush of air were your only warnings before you face-planted into Red’s chest, nose pressed into the fur of his jacket, rest of your body hitting the bed. Your eyes widened in shock, but his big arms wrapped around you and a pleased, heavy purr started up between his teeth and deep in his ribcage, like a softly revving engine that rose and fell in intensity with each breath he took.

  
  


“R-Red?” You squeaked, looking up at him, voice failing to crack above a whisper. He looked so happy; eyelights glowing like warm coals in a fire.

  
  


“you _make_ me a goof.” He purred, nuzzling his face into the top of your head.

  
  


... Why was your heart pounding so fast? Your breath caught as he wrapped himself around you further.

  
  


“make me funny. make me feel good.” He sighed. “make me... make me feel _so...”_

  
  


...

  
  


“... Red?” You breathed.

  
  


...

  
  


He’d fallen asleep.

  
  


... What an idiot.

  
  


You sighed to yourself, figuring he was just going on a bit of a drunken tirade, and extracted yourself from his now-lax grip. He grumbled in his sleep and reached for you, but as much as sleeping in a nice warm bed with a nice warm skeleton would be great you wanted to sleep in your own bed tonight.

  
  


Besides. If he was lonely, he’d join you in your room. Had already happened a few times more than the first.

  
  


You tucked him in, out of instinct, and left the boy’s room, stretching a little and yawning, chuckling a little to yourself at the memory of telling those guys that you were _married_ to Red. How would that be? A domestic life with Red? He seemed like the kind of dude who would rather drink himself into a stupor and sleep around every weekend than settle down with one perso-

  
  


You looked up to see a very familiar face teleport into the corridor a few feet away from you.

  
  


...

  
  


Sans had dirt on his shorts and sleeves, grass on his shoes, sweat on his skull and very distinct marks under his sockets from overusing his magic... but a big, satisfied grin was spread over his face, the same as someone who’d been stressed all day and finally got to take out that stress on something like a punching bag or a workout.

  
  


The two of you made eye contact, and his satisfied grin fell.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“i’m so-” He blurted.

“I didn’t mea-” You rushed.

  
  


...

  
  


“y-you go firs-

“You go firs-”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


The two of you... broke into _slightly_ awkward giggles, some of the tension bleeding out of the atmosphere. You tugged the corner of your shirt, and he rubbed the back of his skull, both of you noting that the other was performing their usual nervous tic.

  
  


“you go first.” Sans said, voice soft.

  
  


“I didn’t mean to make you feel like I thought you were overreacting, or something.” You sighed, holding one arm with the other and doing your best to maintain eye contact with him even though both of you probably wanted to melt into the floor. “But I’m pissed at you for leaving.”

  
  


“... i’m sorry i ‘ported off like that. it was childish. i was taking out some completely unrelated stress on you.”

  
  


...

  
  


“Hug it out?” You asked, kinda weakly opening your arms.

  
  


His tension bled out instantly and his face broke into a giant smile, so much relief in his expression that you could’ve mistaken it for sheer adoration.

  
  


_“please.”_ He wheezed, enough to make you laugh again with a slightly less awkward twist to it. He fell into your arms, wrapping his own around you and squeezing a little.

  
  


“We cool?” You asked.

  
  


“we cool.” He mumbled.

  
  


...

  
  


"Dude. Did you just sniff me?"

  
  


"sorry, sorry, just thought i smelled..." He seemed concerned for a moment, but just shrugged, melting back into the hug. "well. it's probably the rain, or something."

  
  


You sighed. A small part of you would always love him, you knew that. But... right now? Hugging him?

  
  


It just felt good to have your best friend back.


	19. Seasonal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are in heat.

_“SANS. YOU KEEP COMPLAINING YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR THEM. THAT ISN’T THEIR FAULT, DON’T TAKE IT OUT ON THEM. THE SOLUTION IS SIMPLE.”_

_  
“... what solution?”_

  
  


_“STOP WHINING, AND START PUTTING EFFORT INTO BEING SOMEONE WHO’S GOOD ENOUGH!”_

  
  


... You woke up being lightly shaken by the shoulder and rolled over, grumbling... it couldn’t be morning yet, could it? Cracking your eyes open a bit yielded nothing more than darkness so you promptly shut them again, but another sliiiightly more determined shake made you groan and sit up. Was it Red again? Did he think he needed permission to get into bed with you? He’d just gotten in of his own accord on the last three occasions, why did he think he needed your verbal affirmation now, of all times?

  
  


“You better not be-”

  
  


... Oh!

  
  


You blinked your eyes open a bit more, and they quickly adjusted to the darkness, your focal point being the two bright points of white light staring back at you.

  
  


_White._

  
  


It was Sans!

  
  


“O-oh!” You startled, sitting up more. “S-Sans! Hi! ... What are you doing in my room?”

  
  


He put one phalange to his teeth in a shushing motion and held out his hand to you. You didn’t hesitate, taking the outstretched palm and immediately finding yourself brushed by a small tail of wind. It got brighter- much brighter- but not bright like the sun... bright in a cold, blue, white and starry sense.

  
  


... You looked up.

  
  


... Stars, _everywhere._ Every inch of sky, stretching as far as the eye could see. You had no idea where you were (a field somewhere?) but you couldn’t stop following the mesmerising patterns painted above you, gasping aloud to yourself.

  
  


“... just...” Sans said, next to you, a warm arm looping around your shoulders. His voice sounded quieter than usual. “... wanted to apologise properly. for... y’know. being such a jerk recently.”

  
  


“Apology accepted.” You breathed, without even looking at him, unable to tear your eyes from the sprawling galaxy above you, resting your head on his shoulder.

  
  


There was a tiny intake of breath, but... he didn’t step away. Progress! “i’m serious. i shouldn’t have taken out...”

  
  


“Hi serious.” You mumbled, noticing a pattern that looked kind of like a heart. “I’m ‘forgiving you’.”

  
  


“...” He sighed, but... it came out in little chuckles, hand on your shoulder giving a little pat. “... damnit. you’re always making me smile.”

  
  


“Just don’t be a jerk again, ok? Promise.” You hummed, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered a bit hearing _him_ say something like that that. You were supposed to be _over_ him, not _all over_ him.

  
  


But... he’d taken you to a starry field at somewhere around midnight just to _apologise._ How could you _not_ feel the slightest bit flattered at that? Romance or not...

  
  


“... you know i don’t like promises.” He said back, voice equally as quiet, resting his head on yours a little. It felt so intimate... so quietly and casually trusting. Back when you’d first met he hadn’t even been able to stay in the same room as you, and even after he got to like you physical contact was only for the extreme situations. Now he was happy to hold you and lean on you under a sky full of stars.

  
  


“C’mon.” You egged. “Just for me.”

  
  


...

  
  


“alright.” He smiled. “i promise. just for you.”

  
  


You smiled too, though he probably didn’t see, feeling a nice warm feeling in your chest. Over him or not, you were glad he wasn’t going to take out his random other-skeleton-related stresses on you any more.

  
  


“... now let’s get back before you get cold.”

  
  


\---

  
  


... Hit looked up from the papers he had been handed, unimpressed, leaning back in his chair to observe the ever-more-nervous human standing in front of him with his arms obediently at his side. The short balding man’s fleshy features, although unsightly and sweaty, were full of muscles and twitches and signals that made it embarrassingly easy for Hit to tell _exactly_ what he was planning, what he thought he was going to get away with. It was why, back home, he always found himself working with humans one way or another- so easy to manipulate, so easy to read.

  
  


_you’d think that in 100 years, humans would’ve gotten better at hiding their expressions._

  
  


_they didn’t._

  
  


“you think you can distract me with numbers, vincent?”

  
  


Vincent froze.

  
  


Hit sighed- an exaggerated, almost _threatening_ sound. He’d come into contact with the forty-something year old Vincent when he’d first began making associates, giving extortionate loans and getting into fights when setting in the roots of his... _group._ He knew from experience that it was important to make a name for yourself as someone who wasn’t to be fucked with.

  
  


Especially now that he was a boss. _The_ boss.

  
  


Back in his home universe, he was Asgore’s consigliere, and then Papyrus’s ‘underboss’. Papyrus wanted them to be joint bosses but Hit was honestly too lazy to have the kinds of responsibilities Pap wielded so effortlessly. Papyrus insisted he take part anyway, so when they broke away to form their own family after Asgore started going power crazy, he just made sure his lil’ bro was well supported and protected in the starting weeks of the Asters. Hit didn’t care about the power or money- he did the shit he did so Papyrus could fulfil his dreams of being a mobster powerful enough to protect all the monster citizens that were regularly _beaten_ and _killed_ by both normal humans and police alike.

  
  


All Hit’d really do would be talk to Papyrus (the two of them had complete trust in one another; a rare commodity in the world of crime), organise a few shipments, threaten some out-of-line associates and take on the bloody soldier jobs that kept the work so _fun._

  
  


He wasn’t called the ‘dirty boss’ back home for nothing.

  
  


So, all in all, he’d never really had the full responsibilities and pressure of being in charge at all times and having to maintain your scary face to keep hold on skitzy humans. Perhaps it was those early days and fun little _outings_ that made it so easy to set up a mob in this city. Break a few arms and noses, fire a few guns, blow a few guts... and suddenly, you’re the scariest guy in the business.

  
  


Vincent was one of those men who never took Hit serious until Hit overtook him quickly and easily. A fellow boss, but one of a much, much smaller family... only alive because he had men in Hit’s...

  
  


... _Area of interest._

  
  


“i gave you a job.” Hit leaned back in his chair more, crossing one leg over the other, keeping his face in that same indeterminable grin he’d become well known for. “an’ important one, might i add. very personal... very high reward. and you wanna wave increased fee gains in the southside like that’ll make me forget what i asked?”

  
  


“... B-boss, I just...”

  
  


“need more time?” Hit stood up, the chair creaking. He tore the carefully planned costs sheet into pieces, expensive shoes thudding dully on the carpet as he approached, grin turning up more at the corners while his sockets went black, shadowed by the brim of his hat. “vincey, buddy, pal... you’re runnin’ _out_ of time.”

  
  


“W-we’re very close, I assure you...” Vincent stammered, looking up at the glinting grin of sharp, sharp teeth.

  
  


Hit snarled, gripping Vincent by the front of the shirt and lifting him clean off the ground. “i’m runnin’ out of _patience,_ so unless you got those fuckin’ results by tomorrow i swear i’m gonna blast your brains all over the-”

  
  


The door to Hit’s office opened.

  
  


A younger guy, somewhere in his 20s, with sandy hair and a pointed face, came in holding a small notebook in one hand and a pack of Hit’s favourite cigars in the other. A quick glance between the skeleton and the man was all Hit needed to hum, deep in his throat, and drop Vincent unceremoniously.

  
  


“well.” He smiled, blood red eyelights returning. “looks like you got your ass saved by someone who _does_ get results. get out my office.”

  
  


Vincent didn’t need to be asked twice- he was already out before the other two could even start talking, the door slamming shut behind him.

  
  


“Why do you keep him around, boss?” The man asked, cutting a cigar and handing it to the looming figure. Hit gratefully toasted the end with a tiny flicker of red magic formed by snapping his phalanges with a sharp ‘clack’.

  
  


“if _he’s_ scared shitless of me, so are the soldiers in his area.” A long, curling puff of smoke escaped from between his teeth. “any of them step out of line and he gets it. ... _damn,_ sam, these are good. where’d you get them?”

  
  


“Asked a guy for cigs with body.” Sam replied, toasting his own with a normal lighter. “Told him you like the medium stuff.”

  
  


The two men smoked for a moment, a boss and his underboss, the only man Hit trusted in this timeline, enjoying the flavours... but also listening out, ensuring that the last two doors outside of the building shut and a car engine faintly revved away before they started talking.

  
  


“you got their address?” He asked.

  
  


“It’s a small apartment complex between the duck park and that old Grillby’s place.” Sam said, taking another slow drag. “They're on the fifth floor. Also found where they work.”

  
  


Hit’s grin became a bit more genuine. “can always count on ya. it far?”

  
  


“Not bad. A receptionist at one of Jack Furo’s smaller establishments.” ... Sam paused, looking up at his boss, tails of smoke framing his face, a small smile growing. “... You sent Vincent after a fake address in the first place, didn’t you?”

  
  


Hit nodded. “like hell i’d trust him with the knowledge of where someone important ta me lives. was fun to watch him squirm, though.”

  
  


“... And if he thinks he’s on his last chance he’s far less likely to screw up again.”

  
  


“you got it.” Hit’s smile became a bit more proud. Hit knew _somebody_ had to continue this group when he’d gone home... Sam was smart, calm, quick on his feet, and admired the giant skeleton rather than feared him. The two got on perfectly, an air of understanding and respect akin to that of a father and son.

  
  


... Well. _Son_ was a little much. Hit certainly enjoyed giving the kid tips and tricks and watching him figure stuff out, watching him grow and get wiser, and he knew that (unlike most of the men under his command) if either of them were bleeding out in a dark corner the other would drag them to safety rather than leave them behind and take their position, but... Hit was also a mobster.

  
  


He knew better than to get attached to underlings.

  
  


“I still don’t get why you bother keeping him around.”

  
  


“hey.” Hit clapped the smaller man’s back, hard enough to stagger him forward a little. They both laughed, the smell of expensive cigars sweet in the air. “if everything goes accordin’ to the plan, kid, i’ll be gone and you’ll be runnin’ this shit. you’ll call the shots on who does and doesn’t have to deal with egotistical wastes of space like vincent.”

  
  


“...That I will.” Sam grinned back.

  
  


\---

  
  


“knock knock.”

  
  


You sat up, groggy. At least this time it was _actually_ morning- you could see light all around you, leaking in through the curtains, lighting up the floor.

  
  


“Oh. Hey Red.” You rubbed your face.

  
  


“naw, no fair.” He grumbled, voice muffled slightly by the door. “you gotta say ‘who’s there?’”

  
  


You rolled your eyes, but didn’t decline, stretching your toes in the warmth under your duvet. “Who’s theeerree?”

  
  


“algev.”

  
  


“Algev who?” Okay, you couldn’t deny, this was a pretty fun way to start an otherwise normal morning.

  
  


“algev you a kiss if you lemme in.”

  
  


... You snorted, shaking your head a little. “You can come in, you big bastard. But no kis-”

  
  


You’d barely spoken when, instead of just taking the door, he teleported in. You squeaked in surprise but you were already being scooped up (blankets and all) in a little shocked mess and bundled into his _lap,_ the blanket over your shoulders fixed and his arms fastening around you tightly.

  
  


_HIS LAP._

  
  


“R-Red!?”

  
  


He pushed his face against the side of your head, a smooth, heavy purr rolling out of him- he smelled smokey and silky, with that weird tang you noticed yesterday that fogged your brain, and it made you flush in a way you’d never admit. You blinked a few times and tried to recenter yourself, wiggling, one of your legs sticking out at a weird-ass angle and your butt in the gap between his legs, but your arms were pinned by the blanket and the concrete solid bones trapping you. Immediately, you noticed the odd warmth coming off him; you turned your head a bit and saw that his entire face was hot with that familiar cherry colour.

  
  


“... R-Red?” You asked, this time a little less shocked and confused and a little more concerned. He opened his sockets a bit more, revealing his _much_ brighter, smouldering eyelights that were just a _tad_ too close.

  
  


“hm?” He hummed.

  
  


... You swallowed, staring. Holy _fuck_ what happened to his _voice?!_ How did it... it sounded like he was growling, but not in a mean way more in a sexy way, a-and his smell and his eyelights... why was he suddenly so much sexier (you didn’t even think that was possible for him) in every way!?

  
  


“... A-are you feeling okay?” You asked, leaning back a bit so you had room to breathe. Your heart was fluttering in your chest like nobody’s business. “You’re burning up.”

  
  


“mhm. just lemme...” He shuffled you, moving you to sit up a little better, and then pulled the blanket tighter around you. You kinda just... let him do it, confused and irrationally turned on.

  
  


... Especially when he smoothed a corner of blanket, snuggled you closer with your head under his chin and let out the deepest, _throatiest_ sigh you’d _ever_ heard. Heat _immediately_ shot south and your eyes darted open.

  
  


_Holy shit._

  
  


“RedI’dliketogonow.” You blurted, confused and overwhelmed.

  
  


“not yet.” He purred. “you gotta stay warm an’ comfy.”

  
  


“... I _am_ warm and comfy.” Almost _too_ warm. Red was hot in all the best and worst ways.

  
  


“good.” He breathed, like thunder. He stroked your side, a giant hand running up and down the blanket just over where your arm was trapped. “yer so soft. i like ya so much.”

  
  


“... You’re definitely sick.” You said, hesitant, but having a little realisation. Maybe this was the ‘that time of year’ thing? A seasonal sickness!

  
  


Red pouted. “just wanna make sure yer all comfy. that so weird?”

  
  


“Yes. Absolutely.”

  
  


“... aight, fair enough.” He shrugged. “but you’re not going _anywhere.”_

  
  


You huffed to yourself in an attempt to distract the both of you from your embarrassingly obvious blushing by wriggling and trying to escape from his clutches of sexiness. But he just tutted, readjusting while you kicked.

  
  


“i said no.”

  
  


...

  
  


“Did you just _growl_ at me?” You turned to him, playfulness gone. His sockets blinked wide open and a nervous grin split across his face, tiny beads of sweat forming on his skull.

  
  


“i-i... i did? i’m sorry, i... uh... didn’t...”

  
  


...

  
  


... You leapt to the side as fast as you could, managing to roll directly off his lap onto the bed, where you escaped out of your blanket and almost vaulted over the edge, feet landing squarely on the floor. You turned, laughing and pointing a finger at him (still in pjs).

  
  


“AHAH! You didn’t growl! I just made you feel guilty about it so you’daaaaah you’RE GETTING UP, OKAY, I’M RUNNING!”

  
  


You wheeled out the door and bolted down the corridor, around the corner into the living room, heavy footsteps following behind you. You saw Sans, chilling on the couch in his classic blue pj pants and baggy white shirt, and immediately beelined for him, Red hot on your heels.

  
  


“Sans!” You shrieked, and he blinked in shock and jumped from his seat. You took the opportunity to dart behind him like a scared child, hands on his shoulders- he seemed confused for a moment but didn’t protest. “Red’s sick or something but he’s acting weird and won’t leave me alone!”

  
  


... Sans grinned.

  
  


“i’ll keep you safe.”

  
  


... Uhm?

  
  


Your brow furrowed, even as Sans stood a little taller in front of you as Red came around the corner. What was with his weird tone? He sounded... ‘proud’ was the wrong word, perhaps _smug?_ His familiar (comforting) piney smell was also stronger and sweeter, oddly alluring, like Red’s but without the dizzying tang.

  
  


Speaking of Red. You hadn’t been able to see him earlier because he’d immediately attacked you with cuddles but now you could see that he was also in his pjs- the same red pants and tight-ass black shirt from the night you’d all spent together watching scary movies. He approached a little closer, but backed off a step when Sans glared harshly at him.

  
  


“h-heeey, sweetheart.” Red cooed, leaning to the side a bit to try to catch your eye over Sans’s shoulder. “you sure you don’t wanna just c’mere?”

  
“red.” Sans’s voice was stern, aggressive. “we agreed that if we can’t keep our hands to ourselves we’re sending them out.”

  
  


“... Uhm!?” They agreed _what?_

  
  


“but this isn’t about the heat.” Red’s smile pulled into a line that was just as aggravated as his voice.

  
  


“you kidding?” Sans’s hand grabbed one of yours on his shoulder and gave a little reassuring squeeze. _trust me._ “it couldn’t be more obvious that it’s your heat talking right now.”

  
  


_Heat?_ Didn’t Sans mention that once, a while back? When he talked about how the others could smell your own hormonal cycle because monsters were rarely fertile and to them it was a big deal?

  
  


The levels of agitation in the air continued to rise, both of them all but _bristling._ At this point, Red would usually back down from Sans, or glance at the floor, or make some kind of embarrassing pun to lift the tension... but today?

  
  


Today he wouldn’t stop holding his ground.

  
  


“Okay.” You took a step back from Sans. “Where’s Skull? Why’re you both acting so weird? What the _hell_ is going on?”

  
  


... They both glanced at each other, some of the tension immediately bleeding away as they gave each other a sort of... ‘how adorable’ look. Sans rolled his eyelights at Red and turned to face you.

  
  


“i’ll explain everything.” He patted your shoulder. “just gotta sit down with us.”

  
  


“... Uh.” You raised a brow, but shrugged. “Ok. It better not be weird.”

  
  


“i still think we shoulda told 'em, like... as soon as the signs started.” Red mumbled, as you took a seat on the couch with one skeleton on either side. Both immediately tried to put an arm around your shoulders, bumped forearms, glared and shuffled back to keeping their hands by their sides. Red, instead, starting fiddling with the cushion you were sat on.

  
  


“What signs?” You looked up at him. He grinned, amused.

  
  


“well ya clearly don’t know jack about monster baby-making cycles, do ya?”

  
  


“Baby _what?”_

  
  


“what red was _going_ to say,” Sans hissed. “is that monsters have cycles for when they’re at their best time for reproduction. certain... fluctuations in magic. the three of us went into it at the same time probably for competitive reasons.” The more he spoke, the more scientific and less clearly pissed off at Red he was. “it differs a little from monster to monster but we’re mostly the same in that you have periods of time each year where you have more magic and are more moody.”

  
  


“and want to fuck. since yer the only non-sans in the house we all wanna fuck you too.”

  
  


_“red!”_

  
  


Red laughed to himself, elbowing you. You couldn’t help but snicker just a _little_ at how hilariously crass he was being, in comparison to Sans’s best attempts at keeping it scientific and not uncomfortable. And oddly enough, you didn’t really mind them all wanting to have sex? Because you knew that no matter what, they wouldn’t act on it if you weren’t comfortable. If anything it was kind of _flattering,_ in a weird way. “well, those who gotta fuck to make babies wanna fuck. assholes like slimes just gotta do some mitosis... or meiosis if they’re feeling fancy. and a few plants just shoot their pollen everywhere. it’s the _worst_ time fer allergies.”

  
  


“You get allergies?” You giggled, incredulously.

  
  


“no. but it don’t mean it’s nothin’ to sneeze at.” He winked.

  
  


You couldn’t help it- you laughed at that too.

  
  


“it’s biannual fer skeletons.” He leaned back a little in his seat, relaxing into the couch. “and we’re some of the _worst_ for grouchiness, since we gotta use magic to summon our reproductive bits anyway, so we get, like... an over _double_ increase in magic. ya feel like trash, yer always overheatin’ and all you wanna do is get some ass but you _can’t_ cus if ya do you’ll make a baby with ‘em.”

  
  


“So... not a good time?”

  
  


Both skeletons groaned in affirmation.

  
  


“it’s even worse for soul bonded couples who don’t want children yet.” Sans started gesturing with his hands. “their magic will only divert to the partner, but they can’t be in a room together or they’ll... y’know. so both are just stuck delirious and so overheated that they regularly pass out.”

  
  


“... So if you soul bonded with someone, and they didn’t know and left for some reason, you’d just go into insane overheat mode?” You pursed your lips. “That would really suck.”

  
  


“yeah. you got it.” Sans shut his sockets a little. “but what kind of idiot would make a soul bond with someone without them knowing?”

  
  


...

  
  


“Red? You ok?”

  
  


“yeah, sorry, just...” He blinked, seemingly confused. “got a really weird feeling for a sec there. ya got any other questions?”

  
  


“... You all act differently when you’re... ‘in heat’.” You pointed to Red. “You seem determined to wrap me in a blanket. And you’re _still_ messing with the cushion I’m sat on.”

  
  


“nest.” He corrected, apparently slightly embarrassed. “i want to nest.”

  
  


“... _Nest?”_

  
  


“i wanna make sure me an’ my mate are safe and relaxed.” The more he talked, the more a thin blush spread over his cheekbones. But it was different from his usual crimson... it was... pinker? An amaranth, almost light enough to be _carmine_ colour, that seemed far more soft than the normal heavy red. “it’s like this... this primal _need_ t’ keep ya bundled up and comfy somewhere no one else can see, an’ when i get that i just feel... _warm._ like i’m doing something right.”

  
  


“That’s...” Super fucking adorable. “Well I guess I can understand that. What about you, Sans?”

  
  


...Sans flushed too, eyelights darting away.

  
  


“i-i get... creepy. i also want to keep you safe but i do it by following you around at a distance and removing every single slight dange-”

  
  


_“That’s_ why all the knives are missing! Sans, I couldn’t cook _anything_ last night!”

  
  


He smiled that oh-so-familiar guilty (but slightly more loveable now that you had his word he wouldn't be a jerk anymore) smile. “mhm.”

  
  


You looked between the two of them. “What about Skull? What does he do? ... Speaking of Skull, is he just not up yet?”

  
  


...

  
  


They both cringed a little. Your heart dropped. “Guys?”

  
  


“yeah... about skull...” Sans said, biting his ‘lip’.

  
  


Red continued where Sans couldn’t. “from what we could tell he gets kinda... _forceful_ in his heat. unlike us, the big guy doesn’t have the liberty of, uh... self control.”

  
  


“... Where is he?” You asked, suddenly a lot more nervous than you would’ve liked to admit. You couldn’t find Skull scary but there was still something worrying about an unstoppable giant like him having too much magic and little to no ability to stop himself.

  
  


Sans sensed your tenseness and gave your shoulder a little rub, leaning closer. “don’t worry, kiddo. he’s in our room. we set up a magic barrier on the door last night, only we can open it.”

  
  


“... Oh. Alright.” That was relieving. You could just talk to him once this was all over, right?

  
  


You yawned, pretty sleepy- you weren’t sure when but Red had apparently managed to throw a blanket over you and now you were very warm and a little light-headed from the combined scents coming off the both of them. You felt... buzzy? Drunk, almost. But not as harsh, a lot softer, a lot more comforting.

  
  


“So, figuratively, if I was to bang one of you, what would happen?”

  
  


...

  
  


Where the hell had your filter gone?

  
  


Red snorted and burst into laughter and Sans stuttered and stammered out a few half-formed words before you realised what you just said and felt your entire face get hotter than the surface of the sun. Fuck, you wanted to _melt into the sofa_ and never re-emerge again.

  
  


“d-don’t go givin’ me any ideas aboutcha wantin’ it, sweetheart...” Red wheezed, slapping his knee as you steamed from the ears and wished to vanish into nothingness.

  
  


“th-they said figuratively, asshole.” Sans turned to you, cheekbones still speckled with blue but mostly clear at this point. “and, i mean, there’d most likely be a massive fight. you showing interest in one of us would make the other instinctually and unbearably jealous, probably to the point of throat ripping.”

  
  


“only safe method would be _hours_ of double teaming.”

  
  


“R-Red!” _“red!”_

  
  


He laughed uproariously at that, while you covered your face in the combined mortification of Red saying that, you thinking about it, you momentarily _considering_ it and Sans’s badly concealed...

  
  


_... shorts tent._

  
  


Eventually, when the laughter was gone, the embarrassment was no longer thick in the air and everyone’s faces had returned to their normal colour, a comfortable silence took its place and you sighed, eyes closing a little.

  
  


“I’m so sleepy.”

  
  


“yeah, sorry.” Sans said, voice also heavy with fatigue. Must be difficult, your body working at such a ridiculous pace for so long. “that’ll be the pheromones. they’ll make you relax.”

  
  


“You two are roofying me.” You yawned, barely missing Red’s hard cringe.

  
  


“aw, c’mon sweetheart, don’t put it like _that.”_

  
  


“i mean...” Their voices were getting harder and harder to focus on. “they're... not wrong?”

  
  


“yeah but we ain’t meanin’ to. and neither of us will let the other do anything.”

  
  


“S’ok.” You mumbled. “I trust you guys.”

  
  


You fell asleep sandwiched between two powerful male skeleton monsters in the middle of their biannual heat, but... weirdly? You’d never felt safer.

  
  


\---

  
  


In your dream, you felt an odd sensation.

  
  


You were very comfy. Comfier than you’d probably been in your whole life. You could feel a pillow had been placed everywhere that you could possibly need one- on your sides, on your lap, one under your head and one just where you were leaning on some kind of hard surface, like a shoulder. You felt completely snuggled in and safe, two faint hums of magic on either side of you like a protective cocoon.

  
  


... And then... a faint, recognisable magic buzz. Getting nearer. Two giant hands removed you from your comfy place and instead bundled you close to the source of the buzz- you couldn’t help it, it felt so familiar and safe, and very warm. You curled closer; much to his apparent delight.

  
  


Warm, warm hands massaging your sides...

  
  


... Something hot flowed over your neck.

  
  


Breath?

  
  


You blinked your eyes open, breaking out of the sleepy haze, and the first thing you saw was a giant ring of red hovering just a few inches above you.

  
  


....

  
  


“Skull?” You said, brows drawing together.

  
  


At the sound of his name he drew back a little, only the centre of his iris shrinking, like a camera lens almost. You tried to focus, figure out what was going on, as the last of your sleepiness vanished... Red and Sans explained heats, magic levels, souls... you all sat on the couch together... they both said they locked Skull up in their room...

  
  


...

  
  


Wait.

  
  


You were in your room. On _your_ bed. And the massive guy currently hovering over you was definitely _not_ locked up in Sans and Red’s room.

  
  


“S-Skull!?” You tried to sit up, propping your elbows under you and shuffling back a little. Your upper shoulders hit your headboard- fuck, Skull was huge. You kept forgetting just how much he dwarfed you in every sense of the word. “How did you get out?”

  
  


... No response. He leant closer (it was a testament to the size difference that he could easily just lean the distance you had to physically scrabble) and pressed his nasal cavity against your cheek, working eyesocket lidding, starting to purr. It was _much_ deeper than Red’s and almost like a car engine.

  
  


He started to move a little. He was...

  
  


... Nuzzling you?

  
  


At first you were too surprised to do anything but when his face slipped down a little to your neck you reflexively giggled and brought your shoulders up in tickle defence mode. He seemed to like that a _lot_ and kept going, grin widening, even as you made tiny screech sounds and tried to push his face away. When he finally did retreat, you found yourself lying flat on your back and petting his cheekbone, which he liked even _more,_ purring getting stronger by the minute.

  
  


... He didn’t _seem_ crazy and uncontrollable. Maybe he was-

  
  


Something small and wrapped was pushed against your mouth.

  
  


You blinked, and looked down a little; it was a mini energy bar. Skull was holding it out to you, staring, waiting, so insistent you took it that when you paused longer to look back down to it again he pressed it against your face for the second time.

  
  


... Where did he even get that from?

  
  


“You... want me to eat it?” You asked, taking the bar. It was in date, totally sealed... some fruit, nut and cocoa mix.

  
  


He didn’t nod, but it didn’t take a mastermind to know that he really, _really_ wanted you to eat something. So you unwrapped it and took a bite, finding it just a little bit difficult to casually eat it when he was staring at you with so much intensity, but it was such a small bar that you finished it in a few minutes.

  
  


Didn’t Skull say that in his world, there was no food, and everyone was starving? So... much like how Red feels better when you’re comfy and protected, Skull feels better when he knows you’ve had something to eat?

  
  


...

  
  


Something in his expression shifted.

  
  


  
  


He leant in faster than you could react, and kissed you.


	20. love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skull's never been the best at self control.
> 
> ... For better or for worse.

_something’s going to happen._

  
  


...

  
  


... Oh.

  
  


_Oh._

  
  


The first thing you noted, as one of his massive hands tangled in the hair at the back of your head, his lips on yours and your eyes wide with shock, was that Skull was _very_ warm.

  
  


Your heart thumped and your face _immediately_ flushed.

  
  


It wasn’t the most subtle of observations, given that he was, well... in _heat._ But for that split second it was all you could think about; Skull was really warm. Warmth coming from his body, from his chest, from his eyelight, from his hand, from his _mouth._ Tiny details, like the scratches on his socket, the buzzing of his magic, the slight tugging of his claws in your hair and the rustling of the bedsheets as he moved his body to press closer- it was all magnified tenfold.

  
  


His lips were firm, determined... and... they shifted against yours almost _desperately..._ You figured it was because he hadn’t really had the chance to kiss anybody for a long, long while considering the state of his home universe.

  
  


And you found yourself...

  
  


... Oddly _okay_ with being kissed like this.

  
  


You weren’t sure how much of it was the pheromones Skull was putting off and how much of it was the fact that you genuinely adored this soft teddy in a massive skeleton’s body but you found yourself entirely _not_ panicked or upset while lying underneath him with his mouth clumsily pressed on yours.

  
  


... But you had to talk to him about this. Adorable kiss or not he was still in the middle of his heat... You brought your hands up to push lightly on his chest and signal that you needed him to let up-

  
  


His hand snapped out and pinned one of yours to your bed _tightly_ by the wrist.

  
  


... And just like that, a teeny tiny part of you started to feel just a little less than safe.

  
  


Letting out a little noise, a muffled attempt at catching attention, you tried to pull your arm free- but you might as well have been trying to pull it out of an iron shackle. _H... how is he so strong?_ You kicked your legs at him and shoved at his shoulder with your still-free hand to tell him to get off but _fuck_ he was literally like a _brick wall;_ no matter how much you moved or struggled he stayed completely still and unfazed, not shifting in the slightest, his lips on yours. He didn’t even budge at _all._ You made a louder, more panicked noise, hitting at his shoulder and trying to rip your arm free but he didn’t even acknowledge the movement.

  
  


He wasn’t letting up. He was _impossibly_ strong. It was like he was in some kind of _trance._ The bones of his upper and lower arms were thicker than your entire wrist, after all; what chance did you stand trying to fight against him?

  
  


_Fuck._

  
  


The crisp smell of snowy streams and tangy iron weaved its way into your brain and felt unnaturally soothing considering your current situation. You reached up and grabbed at him blindly, and as your free hand grappled to his face to try and push him off... two of your fingers accidentally slipped into his working socket and _tugged._

  
  


His sockets snapped open and he pulled away just a fraction- enough for you to turn your head to the side and land another kick on his femur. Your palms were clammy and your heart was beating _hard_ in your throat but at this point but it was _not_ in a positive way.

  
  


“S-Skull, stop it!” You squeaked, free hand pushing, palm-first, against his giant chest. Why was he acting like this? Did the heat seriously make him go _that_ crazy?! “Get off!”

  
  


_“you’re not really that dense, are you?”_

  
  


... You froze, looking up at him.

  
  


He didn’t sound right.

  
  


His eyelight was blown and radiating warmth, especially as he leaned closer, jaw cracked open slightly as if he were _inhaling_ your scent. You squeezed your eyes shut and flinched away as warm breath carried over your cheek and face- he sounded disturbingly calm and easy. The usual lulling, deliberate slowness that his voice carried with every word in his best attempts to fix together a sentence was completely missing.

  
  


“you know _exactly_ how i feel. how _we_ feel. don’t you...?” He breathed, socket lidding. The controlling hand in your hair moved to lightly sweep it from your face in a confusing gesture that just put you more on edge. “you’re just insecure, and afraid... afraid of ruining what you’ve got by assuming we like you, and too insecure to believe that three guys would like you at once.”

  
  


You wanted to say something, you wanted to tell him to stop it, stop being crazy, stop acting like this... but everything you wanted to say was caught, lodged, like a stone in your throat. You couldn’t stop staring into his eye.

  
  


Then he moved. His hand remained in your hair but this time he pulled very slightly and he leaned down, pressing his teeth right up against your jugular.

  
  


A short, sharp inhale was all you could manage in response; if your cheeks weren’t hot before, they were now. You knew from experience that your neck was one of the most sensitive parts of your body- reflexively, your free hand shot up, and gripped onto his shoulder for support.

  
  


“S-Skull!”

  
  


His own shoulders were starting to shake. Hot breath washed over the thin skin, his chest rising and falling with increasing excitement- you felt him kiss just under your jaw, slow, warm, deliberate.

  
  


“soft... _so soft...”_ His jaw parted. “mine... mine, mine... _**mine.”**_

  
  


Before you had a chance to pull away or register what was happening, he bit you.

  
  


...

  
  


_He BIT you._

  
  


His teeth were far duller than you would’ve expected- given the number in his mouth and their sheer size most of them seemed to do little more than grip like a massive vice. But distinctly, in four places around his huge maw, you could feel sharp, _sharp_ incisors pressing down that threatened to pierce the surface and embed themselves into your neck.

  
  


You _screamed._

  
  


...

  
  


The response was immediate.

  
  


There was a _sizzling_ sound in the air, a _burning_ rush, like a handheld flare going off, or a catherine wheel hissing before starting to whirl... crimson territorial magic scattered through the air like an electric current and all but set your skin alight. Skull barely had time to get up before he was thrown to the floor and pinned under a snarling, _furious_ Red with a heavy _slam,_ baring his fangs at their fullest and his sockets lit up in rushes of magic.

  
  


You cried out, and scurried until your back was against the headboard- Skull may have been physically stronger, but Red had been fighting his whole life, and just by watching the way he _easily_ pinned him you couldn’t help but wonder just how much strength they all gained from their heat... and how much Red was holding back the day he had to restrain Skull from killing Frisk.

  
  


Skull soon processed his shock and bore his teeth just as wide as the fury took over; both of them were possessed, _engulfed_ in a primal rage beyond words that pushed them to fight with everything they had. They were like different people entirely- they were _not_ the guys that you spent every day with.

  
  


They were _terrifying._ Just that slam alone from Red could’ve easily been enough to shatter your spine.

  
  


Suddenly, in a flash, Sans was there by the bed, face contorted in fear, hand extended out to you. Your own hand snapped out and grabbed his before you could even register it, tearing your eyes from the two giants battling in front of you with increasing viciousness and strength. Sans pulled you into his chest, the world shifted, warped, blackened, settled...

  
  


... Somewhere else entirely.

  
  


It took a moment for you to recognise where he’d taken you. You pushed away, staring at the surroundings, confused and disorientated... But you soon recognised it as somewhere he’d taken you once before.

  
  


Light mahogany walls, blue and orange zig-zag carpet, light green couch and a framed picture of a bone on the wall.

  
  


His brother’s house.

  
  


Sans’d brought you here initially after you’d met his younger brother for the first time and apparently made a good impression, as Papyrus wanted to bring you over for... ‘friendship spaghetti’. But, I mean, who _wouldn’t_ like Papyrus? He was taller than Sans by at least a head despite being the younger brother. His skull was longer, too, with smaller eye sockets and longer teeth- kind of like if you took a human skull, pinched it at both ends and gave a little tug, stretching it ever-so-slightly. He was bright, enthusiastic... nothing like Sans. Funny, witty (you sometimes felt like Papyrus was probably just as, if not smarter than Sans), ambitious...

  
  


... Loud.

  
  


You always thought it was odd- Pap did nothing but cook spaghetti but his favourite food wasn’t even pasta. It was dinosaur oatmeal.

  
  


But anyway.

  
  


“... Wait, what?” You asked, snapping into the present again, looking around at the house and then looking back at the much-relieved Sans. ... You were still in your pyjamas. “Why are we here?”

  
  


“it’s too dangerous to go back home.” Sans said, taking your hand and pulling you up the stairs after him. “if red beats skull while you’re there, he might not be strong enough to fight back his instincts. he’ll assume that because he won, he has the ‘rights’ to you. which would be just as bad as skull, if not worse.”

  
  


“... Why worse?” You asked, nervous. Red seemed so calm earlier...

  
  


“because he’s more likely to lash out. look, just...” He turned at the top of the stairs, taking you down the hall. “... it’s safer to take you out of the equation. they’re fighting over _you;_ if you’re not there, there’s a chance they’ll calm down.”

  
  


“What about you?” You asked, tilting your head. “How are you still so...”

  
  


He smiled, looking over his shoulder to face you. “not crazy?”

  
  


“... Yeah.”

  
  


“... i’m...” ... He looked away again, stopping at a door. “... i guess i’m just used to the feeling of others having what i want.”

  
  


“What’s that supposed to mean?”

  
  


... Sans turned around to face you (finally), taking both of your hands in his warm skeletal ones.

  
  


You felt your heartbeat quicken. It was... a slow, deliberate gesture... you felt gratitude and relief flood your system. He’d saved you from a potentially VERY dangerous situation. You looked up from his hands to his eyelights, and saw so much softness and affection in his gaze that your cheeks prickled with warmth and colour.

  
  


_It must be his heat._ You reasoned to yourself. _If it makes him as protective as it did, it probably makes him feel a hell of a lot of affection for me. Like the others._

  
  


“... let’s just relax, alright?” He said, smile becoming more strained. “pap is out, i’m in heat, i’m stressed... i’m saying things i wouldn’t normally say. i just... wanna look after you.”

  
  


Goddamnit, why was he saying all the things you wanted to hear?

  
  


... He paused, his brow furrowing... and a hand reached up to your neck. He stopped a second, waiting, in case you told him to back off, but you didn’t, and his phalanges gently traced the area where Skull had bitten you.

  
  


“... it’s... bruised.” He said, clearly not happy. “what happened? did he grab you?”

  
  


Self-consciously, you brought your own free hand up and placed it over his. “... Skull... went a bit crazy. He bit me.”

  
  


“he _bit_ you!?”

  
  


You flinched a little at his horrified and furious tone, even more confused when he put both hands on either side of your face and turned your neck to see the area better. His eyelights shrank to startling pinpricks, teeth starting to bare a little as his words sank into a growl. “is _that_ what those bruises are? how hard did he bite?! _did he pierce the skin!?”_

  
  


“Sans!” You pulled back from him, fear in your voice and body language. You’d just escaped one crazy growling heat-minded skeleton and been teleported away to avoid a SECOND one, you didn’t want to be stuck with _another!_

  
  


... Sans momentarily looked hurt, but... he paused, and shut his sockets. He gritted his teeth, running his hands over his skull taking a deep, deep breath.

  
  


“ok. sorry. i’m sorry.” He said, voice softer, reopening his sockets with his eyelights back to their normal size. “did he break the skin?”

  
  


“No.” Your shoulders relaxed a bit. “Red attacked him before he could. ... Why’s that important?”

  
  


“... i’ll explain.” He took your hand again, opening the door he’d been standing outside of and leading you in. It was a spare bedroom, with a cabinet full of odd items, like action figures and bones and weird looking boxes... and a small bed pushed up to the corner.

  
  


He sat, back against the wall, and patted the spot next to him. You joined easily, shuffling right up close.

  
  


“it’s another monster thing, obviously.” He sighed, rubbing his hands up and down his femurs. “it’s like... hmm. how do i put it... you heard of marking?”

  
  


You tilted your head. He sighed again.

  
  


“ok, clearly not. there’s two types of marking.” He held up two phalanges. “the first one is scent marking, that’s a lot more casual. when a monster likes another, sometimes they ‘mark’ them with their smell, to show others they’ve got dibs and if they want to try with this person they have to deal with a contender. it’s pretty instinctive, sometimes people don’t even know they’re doing it. nowadays it’s more of a way of advertising you’re in a relationship with someone or showing off that you’re into them, but back in ye olden timese, it was probably some kind of... warning.”

  
  


You giggled at that. ... He smiled.

  
  


“And the second type?” You asked.

  
  


“ah, yeah. _physical_ marking. that’s serious business.” His smile fell a little. “it’s a permanent mark, like a magic-imbued scar or tattoo. dominant monsters do it to claim ownership of their submissive perpetually, but... it’s also, like... a lock, of sorts?”

  
  


You raised a brow. A lock...?

  
  


Sans, seemingly expecting your confusion, continued. “you can technically only ever be marked once, unless they used some _really_ pathetic way of marking. that’s why most dominants use bite or claw marks, and then heal them with their magic... it gets in your bloodstream. non-removable, at that point.”

  
  


“... So...” Your hand came up to your neck subconsciously. “... Skull was... trying to _mark_ me. Permanently.”

  
  


He nodded.

  
  


“...” You looked at the floor. You weren’t sure how to feel... if it hadn’t been for Red intervening so fast, would you have a giant scar on your neck right now? Would Skull have been able to stop himself? Would...

  
  


... Would he have tethered you to him so easily?

  
  


... You laid your head against Sans’s shoulder and tried to ignore the swarming ‘what if’s that filled your mind, and an impending sense of worry at seeing Skull again.

  
  


\---

  
  


... Red slid down the wall, his chest heaving, dozens of new scars littering his ribs and a long two-clawed slice down the side of his head that was still fresh with mahogany-coloured blood. Skull, beside him, was already sitting in a completely exhausted heap, back to the wall, head sagged low as he attempted to draw deep breaths of magic into his weakened body.

  
  


Skull and Red were driven to near madness when the fight began. Something about the shrillness of your scream had put them both into an extreme agitated state- and the moment Red had seen you pinned under Skull with his teeth clamped around your neck the thin line of intelligence he’d been maintaining through his heat snapped like a coil.

  
  


He didn’t remember most of the fight.

  
  


He knew neither of them were going to lie to themselves- which meant recognising the fact that they had both been fully intending to kill the other. Skull, lost to the intense and swallowing feeling of defending what he thought (and in that moment was _convinced)_ was his mate, and Red in the grip of a burning possessive jealousy that locked his thoughts as soon as he saw Skull trying to mark you.

  
  


It was a bloody battle. Claws tearing through clothing and raking across bone, teeth clamping on arms and clavicles, fists connecting with sternums and jawbones... neither with consistent enough logical thought to even consider the possibility of using magic.

  
  


It was raw, it was physical, and it was _exhausting._

  
  


In fact, Red knew, as he sat against the wall panting like a dog after a cage match, that if either of them had been cognizant enough to summon magic there would be one victor and one pile of dust instead of two living skeletons who’d literally fought so hard they couldn’t move a muscle.

  
  


In fact, with the fight being over, he could feel his conscious thought returning and the primal magic in the air thinning, almost as if he and Skull had literally beaten the heat out of each other.

  
  


...

  
  


I mean, they probably had.

  
  


“... i bit them.”

  
  


Skull’s weak, cracked voice broke Red back into the present. He looked over; Skull was _crying_ literally _right next to him,_ and... he hadn’t even noticed. Giant tears rolled down his cheekbone from his working eyesocket as he stared blankly at the floor, his mind far, far away from his body.

  
  


_“i bit them.”_ He covered his mouth, something like... _fear_ cracking through his normally lax expression as his eyelight shrunk rapidly to no bigger than a penny. He looked stricken, panicked, clawing at his own face. “i-i bit her they're going to fucking _hate_ me-”

  
  


“hey, hey!” Red said, cutting over, voice oddly stern. “look at me. c’mon, big guy. look at me.”

  
  


Skull eventually did, removing his fingers from his mouth and turning his gaze to his smaller, sharper double.

  
  


“... listen.” Red said. “i don’t know if our moms were anything alike.”

  
  


... Skull’s expression immediately shifted. His eyelight... seemingly misted a little, loosening as not-quite-clear memories and faces filled his vision.

  
  


“but,” Red continued, “i know mine was a sweetheart. one of the few people in the underground who still held onto the belief that people were capable of kindness. she never _ever_ told a lie.”

  
  


“... what does this have to do with...”

  
  


“mom told me that a heat ain’t who you are.”

  
  


... Skull paused.

  
  


...

  
  


“mine too.”

  
  


“y’see?” Red felt just a shred of stress leave his body as he allowed himself to relax for a moment. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt the need to make Skull feel better... he almost chuckled. Perhaps you were rubbing off on him? “now, i ain’t sayin (y/n) won’t be upset that you tried to bite them. but i _am_ sayin that _wasn’t you,_ aight?”

  
  


... Skull nodded... seemingly somewhat relieved.

  
  


...

  
  


“... sorry. ... for...” He looked at Red. “trying to... kill you.”

  
  


“likewise.” Red sighed, closing his sockets a little. “but hey. we’re both back. that’s progress.”

  
  


Skull... chuckled.

  
  


Red blinked his sockets open again in surprise, turning to look up at the giant. He’d... actually laughed? At something _Red_ said? Red didn’t even think that was possible. He couldn’t help it- a small smile worked it’s way onto his own face as he stared at the tiny lifted corners of Skull’s giant maw; there was something... _really_ contagious about the grin of a guy who rarely ever laughed.

  
  


Oh a whim, still not sure where all of this willingness to form a friendly connection was coming from, he... gave Skull a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It felt ironic that, not ten minutes ago, they were at each other’s throats, conscious of nothing but the insanity and rage that told them _he has to die. he has to die._ _ **he has to die. die die die**_ over and over and over again. They still bore the scars, hell, some of those scars were still bleeding as they sat together, bones aching from fatigue and injury.

  
  


And now, Red was reassuring him with physical contact... and Skull was _smiling._

  
  


_i don’t know what the hell you did to us, (y/n)._

  
  


\---

  
  


You hugged Red as soon as you saw him.

  
  


Sans had deemed it safe to return when Red shot him a text- apparently, if he was aware enough to use a phone and type a full message, he was aware enough to control his instincts.

  
  


You quite literally threw yourself at him, so happy to see him not-crazy, thanking him over and over for helping you, for saving you in the nick of time, for looking out for Skull and not killing him... but you quickly pulled back in horror when you saw just how beaten up he looked. Deep shadows under his sockets, slow breaths, torn clothes and new scars...

  
  


But some of those new scars were healed over. Who had healed them? He’d only been in here with Skull.

  
  


Sans forced the two of you to sit down on the couch together, and went to go prepare Sea Tea for Red’s injuries (and presumably Skull’s). You had no issue resting with Red, especially after how he’d essentially saved you from being marked for life. In fact you immediately cuddled up to his side, still slightly in shock and wanting support.

  
  


He looped his arm around your shoulders, and you instantly felt 100% better.

  
  


“... Red?” You looked up at him. He hummed in response, deep, sultry, almost asleep... he seemed _completely_ exhausted. “Where’s Skull?”

  
  


... Red raised his brows, eyelights peeking out at you from under the lids of his sockets. “he ain’t locked up and crazy, if that’s what yer wondering.”

  
  


... You sighed, leaning back into him, your hands fiddling in your lap. “I just...”

  
  


“he’s in our room.” Red gently nudged you with his hip, smile soft. “i think he needs a bit of a mental break, y’know? time alone. it’s been... it’s been a _hell_ of a day for him.”

  
  


“... Is he okay?” You asked, guilty.

  
  


“he’s fine. just overwhelmed.”

  
  


...

  
  


“... While we were in the room together, Skull... he...”

  
  


You paused, almost not wanting to relive the memory, but...

  
  


You felt like it was something you needed to share.

  
  


“He said some... _weird_ things.”

  
  


“like what?” Red asked, brows creasing just a tiny bit.

  
  


“He said I was... being deliberately oblivious to how he... how ‘we’ felt about me.” You used air quotes around the ‘we’. “But I don’t know if... it was just his heat, or something? Is that something people typically say during heats?”

  
  


Red paused.

  
  


He paused for a long, long moment...

  
  


... You were almost worried Sans would be done with the Sea Tea by the time Red finally came up with an answer.

  
  


“look, i...” He sighed, voice still so luscious and heavy, like satin, even if it carried an oddly defeated tone. “i ain’t _usually_ the kinda guy who gives my competition any chance, so i don’t even know why the fuck i’m sayin’ this. maybe it’s the heat, or maybe just spendin’ so much time in this universe is makin’ me crazy. but...” He turned to look at you. His eyelights were warm, but... veiled something you couldn’t see or understand. “he meant it, when he said he had feelings for you. it’s not his heat.”

  
  


“He... loves me?” You repeated.

  
  


“has for a while, i think.”

  
  


... Oh.

  
  


...

  
  


“... What about you?”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“Red.”

  
  


“look, just... ‘love’ is a strong word right now.” He pinched the bridge between his sockets. “all i know is i caught feelings and they’re pretty strong. can we wait until my heat is over? i feel like... i’m gonna end up saying some sappy shit i’ll regret.”

  
  


... The sound of the whistling of the Sea Tea boiling in the kettle slowly building from the kitchen filled the silence just long enough for you to get an answer out.

  
  


“... Alright.”


	21. Confess, confess, confess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems like _everyone_ has something to get off their chest.

_i have to do it. there’s no time left. i have to._

  
  


... You opened the door to see a strange package, sitting innocently just outside your apartment.

  
  


You paused, for a moment, leaning out and looking either way. Did you just miss someone? Was the delivery guy really that fast? You heard the knock just a few seconds earlier... Surely he or she would’ve waited to get your signature or something?

  
  


You looked down at the package, slightly suspicious. It was addressed to you, and your apartment in particular... you blinked. There was a heart by your name! Drawn in red pen...?

  
  


...

  
  


... _Red_ pen? Could it be Hit?

  
  


You picked up the package. It was a decent size, but fairly light, all things considered. You could hold it in one hand.

  
  


You took it inside, to your room, and sat down on the carpet to open it. You were fairly tempted to give it a little shake and see if you could hear anything, but decided against it, in case it was something delicate that might shatter.

  
  


It was cardboard, so all it took was a few well-placed tugs and the tape holding it together came apart. Inside was another, smarter box... You held it up to the light. It was a black two-piece box about the size of your chest, with little swirling red patterns indented into the material on the top.

  
  


_Ok. Heart by my name, red and black theme..._ You smiled to yourself. _Definitely Hit at this point._

  
  


You lifted the lid. There was a small note taped to the roof of the box.

  
  


_‘saw this and thought of you. couldn’t help it, i want to spoil you. hope you like it. if you don’t, just give me a text and i’ll get it replaced xxx_

_\- h’_

  
  


... You flushed such a bright shade of red that you were _very_ glad he wasn’t there to see you in the moment. You had to put the lid down and glance around to check that nobody had seen you get flustered so easily- goddamn it! All these sexy skeletons!! You covered your own cheeks with your hands.

  
  


Although you _definitely_ had no issue with a smooth, sharply dressed, _handsome_ guy giving you gifts, you probably needed to talk to him about just sending you things out of the blue. You weren’t sure how comfortable you were being a sugar baby.

  
  


You removed some thin red paper packaging around the product... and lifted it up.

  
  


...

  
  


... A dress.

  
  


You immediately put a hand to your mouth- this thing was _gorgeous._

  
  


You couldn’t help yourself. You stripped, and tried it on. The only issue was the zip at the back (you had to scrabble around a bit around your back to get the whole thing to zip up) but it took relatively little time... you stopped to check yourself out in your mirror.

  
  


“... Holy _shit,_ Hit.” You breathed.

  
  


A long, almost floor-length, form-fitting black dress, silky and all but _velvety_ to the touch, the outlines of flowers stitched in a shimmery red thread around the bottom and along a small vertical cut to show your leg. You were _completely_ blown away. This thing was so comfy yet elegant, it felt like it cost more than the entire apartment’s rent for six months... It fit like a _glove,_ but... a glove that somehow made you look far more elegant and curvy than you ever thought you could’ve looked?

  
  


You turned to the side to see yourself more. You _had_ to give Hit credit- not only did he have incredible taste, and he was also a man of culture, given how little skin the dress actually showed. Your arms were bare, but the cut of the chest wasn’t even that low. In fact, given a dress of this caliber, you would’ve thought you’d basically have half your chest showing, but... it sat comfortably just below your collarbone and the thin sleeves came up over your shoulders. You subconsciously ran a finger over them...

  
  


... How much did this _cost?_ And how did it fit you so perfectly? Your brow furrowed a tiny bit even as your giddiness grew. You had a _sneaking_ suspicion Hit didn’t just randomly see this and think of you. It was your exact height, hip, waist and bust measurement, almost to a fault.

  
  


But that raised another question. If he got this made for you, _how did he know your measurements?_

  
  


... Oh well. Prettiest dress you’d seen in your life or no, this wasn’t something to be casually worn around the house. You lifted an arm up to go for the zip...

  
  


...

  
  


... A slow, long whistle from the doorway.

  
  


You jumped, startled, and turned- Red was leaning on the door frame, his brows high on his head and a dangerously appreciative smile on his face as his eyelights checked out something that clearly was below the waist.

  
  


“... Red.”

  
  


... His gaze lingered on your ass for far longer than necessary before they came back up again.

  
  


“oh, _no,”_ He purred, lowly, hands in his pockets. “don’t let me interrupt.”

  
  


You went pink and spluttered- he laughed.

  
  


“aight, aight, i’ll turn around.” He shifted so his back was to you. “... where’d you get that, if you don’t mind my askin’? looks fancy.”

  
  


“It’s from a friend.” The lie came out naturally as you shuffled. “I didn’t even know they were going to send me anything so it was... hng, a bit of a surprise... to...”

  
  


“... to?”

  
  


...

  
  


“I-I can’t reach the zip.” You stammered, weak, face heating so much you felt like you were going to explode.

  
  


The zip was _juuuust_ high enough so that when you put it on you could ‘push’ it up the curve of your back from below and then reach over your shoulder and pull it up the rest of the way. But now, from the back, you couldn’t push it down far enough to grab it from below.

  
  


You’d always been confused how protagonists in romantic novels managed to get the dress on and somehow not be able to get it off without someone doing the zip.

  
  


Now you knew.

  
  


For some reason, you felt like this design flaw was intentional on Hit’s part.

  
  


... Red’s snicker should’ve been illegal.

  
  


“... need a hand?” He purred, still facing away. “i have two spare.”

  
  


“Just the zip.” You said, still high-pitched and embarrassed. “Please.”

  
  


“can-do.” He whistled again, approaching you from behind, footsteps slow against the carpet. You flushed even harder at the sight of his huge form so close behind you (sometimes you forgot just how gigantic Red was because you were used to thinking of Skull as the taller one; the top of your head still _just_ undershot Red’s jaw), heart starting to pound against your chest a little too loud- he winked at you in the mirror.

  
  


His hands started on your waist, and glided down to your hips, warm and hard and deliberately very, _very_ slow.

  
  


“Red.” You said, voice a teasing warning, not sure why it was so quiet. “The zip isn’t on my ass.”

  
  


“can’t blame a man for wishin’.” He purred back, and you couldn’t help but giggle with his almost pouty tone and the way his breath tickled the side of your face.

  
  


His hands drifted up your back. One settled on your bare upper arm, easily wrapping around, the other finally taking a hold on the tiny zipper. You swallowed- he leant ever-closer, the crest of his pelvis bumping lightly into you lower back.

  
  


“yer arm is cold.” He said, voice hushed and deep and rolling in your chest. “might need someone to... warm you up, afterward.”

  
  


“I’ll bare that in mind.” You said, whispering, unsure if you voice would crack if you tried to speak any louder.

  
  


The zipper began to slide down, torturously slow, his bare knuckle tracing softly over your spine as it travelled down, down... finally stopping at the small of your back. You were absolutely sure he could hear your heart at this point. There’s no way he couldn’t. And even _if_ he was somehow deaf he would easily be able to see your unstoppable blush in the mirror.

  
  


“might wanna cool it there, sweetheart.” Red all but _growled_ softly, right next to your ear, free hand sliding up your bare back so delicately it made you shiver. “some of us just came out of heat. if ya keep doin’ all those adorable things yer doin’, well... who _knows_ what might happen...?”

  
  


“... Red?” You asked, voice thin as a spider’s thread

  
  


...

  
  


He seemed to immediately sense the change in mood.

  
  


“... fuck. don’t say it.” He said, voice teasing, but underlined with slight nervous disappointment. “don’t you dare say it. imma leap out the window.”

  
  


“... Can we talk? ... About yesterday?”

  
  


...

  
  


Ultimate mood killer.

  
  


... He went silent for a moment, skull coming down to rest on your shoulder. You felt him press a warm, toothy kiss to the side of you neck.

Slow.

  
  


... Careful.

  
  


... The sigh that escaped his ribcage was heavy enough to make his whole chest rise, pressing against your back. But despite his earlier threat to launch himself from the first floor to avoid addressing it, he mumbled out an affirming “... yeah. ‘course.” and smiled against your neck.

  
  


You had him step outside for a minute while you took the dress off, folding it up and putting it (very, VERY delicately) back in its box, which you slid under your bed. Once you were back in regular non-expensive clothes that smelled less like they were straight out of an expensive perfume shop, you called Red back in and had him sit next to you on your bed, your backs resting on the wall.

  
  


... He looked very nervous. _Very_ nervous. As he sat, the bed shifted, causing you to rock toward him and lean on his side a bit. ... It was a stark contrast to the confident, sexy Red you’d seen just _minutes_ earlier. He’d gone from an experienced and hungry predator to a deer about to run.

  
  


“... You ok?” You asked, leaning forward a little. He wasn’t meeting your eyes.

  
  


“... yeah. i’m good.”

  
  


“You look like you’re about to bolt.”

  
  


“... mh.”

  
  


... He probably was. You recalled the first night he’d slept in your bed with you; how nervous he was, how it’d taken him minutes to even find the words to form a sentence, how you felt like a single wrong move would send him running out of the room or burying his feelings under his jokey, sexy persona to deflect any attempts at someone seeing what was really going on.

  
  


You took his hand, determined to get a proper answer out of him. For all of his pride he _really_ didn’t like talking about himself or his emotions. “... What you said, earlier. About... catching strong feelings? ... Is that true?”

  
  


... He nodded, closing his sockets. “yeah. ... wasn’t just a heat thing.”

  
  


“You-”

  
  


“look, sweetheart.” He said, voice suddenly a lot less wobbly than you would’ve expected. It certainly wasn’t powerful (he was still speaking with softer tones) but it immediately caught your attention. “i’m... gonna try to get this all out before i pussyfoot out of it.”

  
  


... His hand turned over and entwined with yours, running his thumb over your skin. He shifted, too, so his body was facing you, back no longer against the wall.

  
  


“i don’t... want anything to change between us, aight?”

  
  


You blinked. His cheekbones started to tinge with carmine.

  
  


“... What do you mean?”

  
  


He took a breath, like a man about to dive into a freezing quarry of water.

  
  


“...i ain’t exactly the _honest_ type when it comes to, uh, how i... feel about people.” He gave your hand a light squeeze, looking away. “i’m better than blue but i still ain’t really comfortable admitting when someone’s important to me. it’s... almost scary, actually. acknowledging... that i care this much about somebody. ... an’ i don’t like being scared. ... you get it, right?”

  
  


... You nodded, slightly blown away, feeling very lucky to get this much honesty from him in one sitting.

  
“talkin’ to ya when i was in heat got me thinkin’, y’know? an... i realised my issues.” His eyelights looked small, even as he leant toward you a little, huge form seemingly deflating as he pulled back his layers of bravado, taking another deep breath to spurr himself on. “relationships scare me cus i just ain’t used to that amount of _risk._ i ain’t used to bein’ attached to someone who can get hurt. carin’ is dangerous business back in the underground. carin’ about someone... it could get you killed. commitment, it... it makes me skittish, makes me say shit i don’t mean so i can keep people at a distance.”

  
  


“... You’re scared of loving and losing.” You said, voice soft, more and more taken aback by the second.

  
  


He nodded.

  
  


“... i don’t know how i feel about ya, sweetheart. it’s all a big mess.” His forehead touched yours, voice delicate, as if he were afraid that any moment the mood would snap like a toothpick and he wouldn’t be able to get the words out. “but, either way, i like how things are now. flirty, funny... good friends with a chance of sex, y’know? nothin’ too... emotionally investing, or confrontational.”

  
  


You took a breath. “... Red, I-” _you’re such an important person to me-_

  
  


... He pressed a phalange very gently against your lips.

  
  


You glanced up, confused- his expression was different, now. Warmer. The blush was gone but he still seemed slightly embarrassed, a tiny adorable smile over his glinting sharp teeth.

  
  


“if yer gonna tell me how you feel about me, don’t.” His sockets were lidded and so _very_ close. “i don’t need to hear it. it’s either gonna disappoint me or scare me.”

  
  


... You closed your mouth.

  
  


... His finger gently travelled over your cheek, and he cupped your face. The gesture was so intimate and tender that your heart skipped a beat. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, velvety, and so _wonderful._

  
  


“i know you care, sweetheart. that’s all i need to know.”

  
  


... You saw the kiss coming a mile off, as you both closed the gap, your eyes shutting... but that didn’t make it any less amazing.

  
  


You almost felt bad for Hit. Red’s kiss blew him completely out of the water from the moment your lips connected. Perhaps it was because your kiss with your more _secretive_ skeleton suitor was pretty spur-of-the-moment and he didn’t have as good of an opportunity to impress you, but...

  
  


... Crap, what were you thinking about again?

  
  


One of Red’s hands pressed against the back of your head to support you, and the other slipped over your thigh, gently squeezing. Skeleton lips were such strange things- firm, thin, smooth... warm. He smelled so _good,_ too, smokey and sweet and thistly. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he pressed forward more, pin-sharp teeth grazing your lower lip, a soft, hungry growl escaping his chest.

  
  


And when you parted to breathe, the only thing you could manage was a soft “... Wow.”

  
  


He looked back, just as blown away.

  
  


...

  
  


“...” He suddenly slapped a hand over his face. “i just remembered the goddamn reason i showed up to yer room in the first place. fuckin’ _hell.”_

  
  


You raised an eyebrow. Interesting thing to bring up right after kissing someone.

  
  


“skull wanted to talk to you.”

  
  


...

  
  


... Fuck.

  
  


“... Oh.”

  
  


Nervousness immediately spread in your chest and gut like a cold chill, Skull’s face appearing in your mind. Your brain seemed to flicker back and forth between your different perceptions of him- one moment, his face was his usual tiny smile and constant reassuring stare; the next his blown eye and wide grin was hovering over you moments before he tried to permanently mark you as his partner by sinking his teeth into your neck.

  
  


“hey.” Red said, seemingly sensing your anxiousness. He rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. “he’s not crazy any more. the heat’s over.”

  
  


“... I don’t know what I’ll say.” You admitted, small.

  
  


“just let him talk, then. you won’t regret it.” He fiddled with your hair. “i ain’t sayin’ you have to forgive him or somethin’ but i’m just sayin’ you should talk to him. we both know he didn’t mean to do what he did.”

  
  


“...” You cuddled closer to him, letting your head rest in the small dip where his shoulder met his chest. You just wanted to stay like this for a moment.

  
  


... Red didn’t complain.

  
  


\---

  
  


Eventually, you _had_ to go see Skull. Knowing he was waiting on you to show up just made you feel worse the longer you waited so you forced yourself to knock twice on the boys’ bedroom door.

  
  


... No response. You pushed the door open, slightly nervous- no, scratch that. _Really_ nervous.

  
  


“... Skull?”

  
  


...

  
  


The light was on, at least.

  
  


He was sitting on his bed, staring at you as you stepped in and carefully shut the door behind you, seemingly surprised or caught off guard, like he didn’t _actually_ expect you to show. You took the sight of him in- hunched shoulders, slightly lowered head, shadowed sockets. Like a dog who knew he’d done something wrong.

  
  


He looked so... _scared._

  
  


“... i-i’m sorry.” He croaked.

  
  


...

  
  


Fuck.

  
  


You couldn’t believe you tricked yourself into thinking it wouldn’t be easy to forgive him.

  
  


Immediately, without even realising you’d done it, you crossed the room to him. Both his body and his eyelight tensed up as you approached, as if thinking you were going to berate him- but you hugged his huge form and pressed his confused face against your shoulder.

  
  


“It’s ok.” You stroked the intact side of his skull, feeling the buzzing warmth of his escaping magic into your fingertips. “It’s ok. That wasn’t you.”

  
  


... He cried.

  
  


He made surprisingly little sound, but seeing as last time he cried on you he made no sound at all you figured it must just be how he cried. His huge hands came up, bunching in your shirt around your back- just one hand was enough to cover almost half your back. You just... let him get it all out, clinging onto you in the silent, messy bedroom.

  
  


...It was... honestly hard to tell when he stopped crying, since his tears were so silent. But after what felt like forever you could feel no more movement in his shoulders, and could no longer hear the tiny sharp intakes of breath.

  
  


And eventually, once he was done, he raised his head to look you in the eyes. He seemed to... decide something? His eyelight became set and his grin a little flatter. He pulled you gently into his lap by his grip on your back- you didn’t protest or fight, already used to him treating you like a teddy bear when he was nervous or upset. His huge femurs were strangely comfortable; you thought it’d be like sitting on two iron poles but you ended up with your butt in an oddly cozy groove while you looked up at his giant form.

  
  


... He really _was_ gigantic. Every time you thought you were over how huge he was, it hit you all over again.

  
  


“... i... wanna... talk.” He said, voice shaky.

  
  


“... Alright.” You said.

  
  


“... do you...” he thought for a long moment. “... remember... what i said?”

  
  


“When you were in heat?”

  
  


He nodded, and you paused, pursing your lips. “You said... that you had feelings for me. And that... I was being ‘deliberately dense’.”

  
  


“you were.” His eye zeroed in on you. “you _are.”_

  
  


...

  
  


You blinked, surprised at his succinctness. He was maintaining that same strong eye contact you’d become so accustomed to but there was something else behind it- something acute. Something... critical.

  
  


“you... do it a lot.” His working socket relaxed a fraction as he observed your shocked expression; most likely him realising he was being a little too intense for you to be comfortable. “you don’t react. you... ignore it. hoping that... it’ll go away. and things will be normal. where it’s safe. people’s feelings, events... if you ignore, it’ll go away. sometimes... you don’t know you’re doing it.”

  
  


... You were momentarily stumped for words. You wondered if this was how he felt when he tried to think normally.

  
  


... But...

  
  


... Your face fell a little as it began to dawn on you just how _right_ he was.

  
  


Your flirtation with Red, your promise of a ‘date’ with Trist, even things _Skull_ said... You realised how quick you’d been to discard any reaction in favour of things going back to normal. You didn’t like confronting, no matter how confidently or ‘I’m in touch with my feelings!!’ you portrayed yourself as.

  
  


It was just... always so much _easier_ to pretend it never happened, and to let things go back to how they were beforehand. To not react, to not respond.

  
  


“i love you.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“... Love?” You asked, looking up at him, voice small with shock and eyes wide. “... A-are you sure?”

  
  


“yes.”

  
  


... You had a feeling that was coming. You never expected it to really happen- in fact, you figured he’d phrase it like Red. You thought he’d say it like he knows there’s something there but he just can’t quite put his finger on it.

  
  


But no. Completely to-the-point.

  
  


“... i’ve never felt like this before.” He said, voice getting slowly quieter, but also... stronger.

  
  


It was like he’d said it over and over and _over_ in his head, practising so it could come out more naturally than his usual broken sentences, not like each word was thought out like he was speaking a foreign language he barely knew. But even so, his giant phalanges tightened around you slightly. “i’ve never felt this strongly about anyone. it’s... it’s probably unhealthy. but it feels good.”

  
  


...

  
  


“do you love me too?”

  
  


... Fuck.

  
  


You looked up into his eyelight, _completely_ stumped as to what you should say.

  
  


“... Skull, it...”

  
  


“yes or no.” He said, simply, when he apparently felt you’d taken too long to answer.

  
  


“... I-it’s not that _simple.”_

  
  


His eyelight tensed. “... i won’t _die_ if you say no.”

  
  


Somehow, you felt that if you told him you didn’t love him, a part of him would.

  
  


“N-no, it...” You sighed, a slight nervous shake infiltrating your tone. You brought your hands up to your face and pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes- you needed to take a breath. How were you supposed to explain what you were feeling? How were you supposed to translate the _tempest_ in your chest into words anyone, let alone Skull, would understand? “I... There’s so many different _types_ of love. I...”

  
  


... His body language changed a little. His eyelight and socket softened into something akin to understanding.

  
  


... You took your hands away from your face but you couldn’t quite make eye contact.

  
  


“... I don’t think I love you in the way you love me. Wait, no, that sounds so _horrible...”_ You shook your head. “It’s not that I _don’t_ love you. I do, I really do. You’re so important to me, I love having you around and talking to you and sitting with you. I wish I could... I wish I could explain how much you _mean_ to me. I just... I don’t think I’m ready... for the commitment that comes with romantic love...?”

  
  


... You looked up at his face.

  
  


“I’m sorry. It’s all a big mess. You probably didn’t catch a word of that...”

  
  


... He looked...

  
  


... So...

  
  


... _Happy?_

  
  


You blinked- it was pretty unexpected. His smile was thin, wobbly, but wide and genuine- even the loose, lax socket was crinkled slightly at the corner. He looked like he was nearly about to cry.

  
  


“... no, it’s ok.” He said, soft, thin as a thread. “i understand.”

  
  


He leaned forward and down to press his nasal bone against your cheek in a delicate nuzzling motion, and in turn, you reached up and petted his cheekbone, fingers so tiny against the vast expanses of chipped and scarred bone that made up his face. He purred, very very quietly, socket shutting a little... You could hear his breath catching, hear all the emotion packed into his tone.

  
  


“... you really... feel like that?” He asked. “... i’m important?”

  
  


“Absolutely.” You let your shoulders relax a little, nervous panic at saying the wrong thing and ruining everything starting to leak away. He seemed to understand. ... You did love him, you just weren’t quite prepared yet.

  
  


His smile made your chest feel funny. “alright. just... know that... as soon as you’re ready, i’m here.”

  
  


“Course.”

  
  


“... stay with me?” He asked, small. “for a bit?”

  
  


You smiled.

  
  


“As long as you want.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Skull was such a big goober. You couldn’t get over how adorable he was. You ended up cuddling him until he fell asleep, his giant arm around you and his face inches from yours, massive fuzzy iris studying, studying, studying, taking in every detail until his socket just couldn’t stay open any more. Once you were certain he was fast asleep, you kissed his cheekbone and turned the light off, headed to the kitchen to get some food.

  
  


... But on the way there, you bumped into Sans. He was leaning on the door to the kitchen, sweating, grin tight at the corners.  
  
  


“hey kiddo.” His fingers drummed nervously on the frame. “... can we... talk?”

  
  


...

  
  


“... Sure.” You blinked, slightly confused. What was he nervous about...? An apology, maybe? As far as you could remember, he hadn’t done anything that needed an apology. He’d already told you how sorry he was about being a massive jerkface.

  
  


... Had _you_ done something?

  
  


He gestured for you to follow him into your room. Your nervousness quickened a little... if he wanted to go in your room with you, he seriously wanted privacy. What could possibly require that?

  
  


When you entered behind him, your hand coming up to hold your forearm, the door swung shut behind you from a little push with his magic. He faced away from you for a moment and rubbed the back of his skull, sighing- seemingly taking a moment to think.

  
  


“... Sans?” You asked, agitation leaking into your tone.

  
  


“... yeah, sorry.” He turned to face you, and you _immediately_ noted how there was a light, almost sparkly dusting of blue on his cheekbones. He wasn’t looking you in the eyes either, fixed on a spot of carpet.

  
  


... Your own nervousness began to settle into nothing more than a slight nagging in the back of your mind.

  
  


“... can we sit down?” He asked, still not making eye contact.

  
  


“... Sure.”

  
  


So you found yourself, for the _third_ time today, sitting on a bed with a nervous skeleton next to you. The more you looked at him, the more things became apparent to you- his drumming phalanges on his lap, his tiny, darting eyelights, his noticeably off-beat breath and the way he’d occasionally bite his teeth together.

  
  


“... i-i don’t...” He said, after what felt like forever. “... i don’t know how to say this.”

  
  


“It’s ok.” You replied, crossing your legs. “Take your time.”

  
  


You couldn’t deny that part of you was starting to get a little bit excited. Him nervous and blue, not sure how to put it together, asking to speak to you privately...

  
  


... It all sounded a lot like he was going to confess, right?

  
  


Your chest tightened at the thought. You weren’t sure how you’d even respond if somehow that _was_ the case. You certainly weren’t as crushed on him as you used to be, before the others arrived and you realised you had other options to a guy who didn’t like you back. You still liked him and that small, resilient thing in your chest still held out with romantic feelings for him, but you didn’t have much hope.

  
  


I mean... it’d happened before. You’d been absolutely _certain_ he was about to confess to you, and then something else entirely had come out. Like the time he took you to Grillby’s and on the way home blushed and told you he had something _super important_ to say... which turned out to be that you had a sesame seed in your teeth. Or the other time he all but had you pinned to a wall... apparently to tell you he was working a late shift.

  
  


The more you thought about the misleading events in the past, the more your hopes for a confession were dashed. But you couldn’t deny a little part of you still held out.

  
  


He rubbed his skull again.Your heart rate picked up. “... fuck. i-i guess... what i’m trying to say, is-”

  
  


_Bzzzzt._

  
  


...

  
  


_Bzzzzt._

  
  


Your excitement dropped. His phone was ringing.

  
  


_Bzzzzt._

  
  


... A look of utter ‘this is bullshit’ crossed his face for a moment..

  
  


...

  
  


He picked it up...

  
  


... And cancelled the call with a hard press on the red button, turning to you, chucking the offending device over his shoulder, where it landed on the carpeted floor with a resounding thud and bounced twice.

  
  


“Sans!” You looked at him, aghast. “Your phone!”

  
  


“i don’t care.” His sockets squeezed shut tightly. You watched in awe as the deepest shade of blue you’d ever seen on him broke out all over his face like ink spreading through water, his mouth opened, and-

  
  


It tumbled out.

  
  


“i-i like you as more than a friend!”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


_Son of a-_


	22. Plans for tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sans talk it out.
> 
> ...
> 
> Hit makes plans.

...

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“How long?”

  
  


“for ages.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


You reached over and, semi-lightly but semi-seriously, smacked his cheekbone.

  
  


He blinked at you, confused, blush fading away- you moved closer when he didn’t respond and smacked him again, this time on the skull, your face twisting.

  
  


“You’re a fucking _idiot.”_

  
  


“kiddo-” he held one of your wrists, holding it away from his face, a confused crease forming between his brows. You tugged, but his deceptively strong grip held, so you went at him with the other hand, raining tiny harmless human smacks down on him.

  
  


“You waited _this-”_ thwack! _“goddamn long-”_ thwack! “to tell me you liked me?! This _fucking long?!_ I’ve been sitting here like an idiot thinking you didn’t like me and convincing myself it’s nothing for no reason at all while you’ve been here just twiddling your phalanges!?”

  
  


He caught the other wrist too. “stop hitting me. it’s not doing anythi-”

  
  


...

  
  


“wait. _you like me too?”_

  
  


“Are you kidding!?” You gestured wildly with your captured hands. “I’ve liked you as more than a friend for... fucking _hell,_ Sans! I don’t even _know_ at this point! Since basically _right after_ you stopped being a dick to me!”

  
  


His cheekbones started to stain again, like ink ultramarine blue slowly spreading through ivory white water. “this whole time, we... y-you... _like_ me?”

  
  


“You _idiot!”_

  
  


You tried to push toward him to free your hands, absolutely _fuming,_ but you just ended up slipping forward, toppling directly onto him and squashing him under you- goddamnit! He fell backward onto the bed, your wrists still securely in his grip and no matter how much you tugged he stubbornly refused to let go.

  
  


“You stupid stupid _stupid stupid-”_

  
  


“w-woah, just chill out a second-” he was going blue again.

  
  


All you could do was make a loud random angry noise at him- probably the closest that you, a human, could get to the frustrated growling you heard from the guys on such a regular basis. Your mind was flooded with every situation where you'd been hurt or felt friendzoned or heartbroken or like there was no chance of you ever being with him or when he'd just been acting like a huge douche- which was all, of course, for _no reason apparently._ "Chill out!? Are you trying to make things worse for yourself? You're out of your mind if you think this is going to end with snugglesand kisses!"

  
  


"...no kisses?" He asked, an odd suggestive lilt to his tone that you did _not_ expect, especially in this situation. You would've figured him to be much more shy and blushy and... stammery.

  
  


“I c- _Rgghhh!"_ You flushed with a mix of fury and hot embarrassment, teeth grinding together as you looked at him. What the hell did he think was going to happen?!"You genuinely had no fucking clue I was into you?! Was I _seriously_ that subtle?!”

  
  


... He seemed to relax when he heard that. Much to your chagrin.

  
  


“no. no, you weren’t subtle. at first.” He admitted, looking away.

  
  


“Then why-” you practically _bristled,_ “the hell do you mean ‘at first’?”

  
  


“i didn’t...” He sighed. How was he so calm about all of this? “i didn’t want to let myself have feelings for a human.”

  
  


... The look you gave him could only be described as ‘you have 20 seconds to take that back before I smack you again’. Your brows went high on your head but your frown solidified, eyes narrowing.

  
  


This wasn’t at all how you’d dreamt your confession with Sans would’ve gone. Sure, the colour on his cheekbones at the very start was similar, but in your dreams there was much less... restrained fury threatening to split your chest open. And he certainly wasn’t lying underneath you- you’d figured _that_ would’ve taken a tad longer.

  
  


You just... He’d liked you, and you’d liked him. And he’d _known._ He’d known exactly how you’d felt about him.

  
  


But he hadn’t done anything about it because he didn’t like that you were made of flesh and he was made of dust.

  
  


“i-i’m past that now, ok?” He immediately broke into a sweat, letting your wrists go. There we go- that was the Sans you were expecting. “i didn’t... i was a dumbass.”

  
  


“Clearly.” You said, curt and unimpressed, sitting back on your heels and allowing him room to sit up too. Your sharpness didn’t dissuade him from continuing with his explanation, however- he started picking at the gaps between his phalanges, his signature nervous tick.

  
  


“i thought... i just had a mild-ish crush. i thought if i ignored it, it’d go away, but it didn’t, it kept getting stronger. and by the time i accepted that my feelings weren’t going anywhere you weren’t being obvious about it and i thought you’d moved on, so... i kept it to myself.”

  
  


“You’re an idiot. An absolute moron.”

  
  


“... yep.” He smiled, nervously and awkwardly.

  
  


“Why the constant friendzoning?”

  
  


“... i was scared you’d find out i liked you as more than a friend.”

  
  


“Why not just tell me you liked me?”

  
  


“... why didn’t _you_ tell _me_ you liked me?”

  
  


You immediately sat up straighter, feeling very akin to an angry pufferfish who’d been abruptly poked. He seemed to _instantly_ regret his question, cringing back before a single word left your mouth. “You literally had friendzoning sentences coming out of your ears, Sans! What was I supposed to think?! Why would I tell someone who wouldn’t even take a request to _dance_ without yelling at me that I had a massive crush on him?!”

  
  


He sighed. “... yeah. right. ... sorry.”

  
  


You slumped back down again, grumbling. “This is why I’ve kissed Red and not you.”

  
  


...

  
  


You could practically _see_ him prick up, a pair of nonexistent ears swivelling around in your direction. He turned to you, eyelights _halving_ in size. “you _kissed_ _Red?”_

  
  


You levelled him with another unimpressed stare. “He’s been far more open with how he felt since the very start, Sans. The only reason I didn’t kiss Skull too was because he didn’t go for it- but if he had, I definitely would’ve.”

  
  


A very thin silence settled after those decisive comments from you, Sans seemingly internally sulking/regretting his inability to share his feelings.

  
  


...

  
  


“... what happens now?” He asked, softer than before.

  
  


“What do you mean?”

  
  


“well, just...” He flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, grin lower on his face. “i like you, you like me. you also like red and skull, and they _very much_ like you back. so what happens now?”

  
  


“What do you want?”

  
  


He looked to you. “... i’d like to date. though i’m guessing that’s not on the table right now?"

  
  


You folded your hands in your lap, sighing. “I told Skull I wasn’t ready to commit to romantic love. I think his love is a little more committed and single-track minded than yours, but what I said still stands.”

  
  


His lip twisted a little.

  
  


“...” You ended up flopping backwards too to lie next to him, turning to the side a little to look him in the sockets. “I’m going to have to think. You want to date, but I’m pissed as hell at you right now.”

  
  


“... yeah. that’s fair enough.”

  
  


“... You don’t have to wait for me or anything, though.” You amended, your voice softening overall. It definitely felt like most of the anger had bled from the situation- you'd had your moment to yell at him and be frustrated. Now you just wanted to sort things out. “I’m gonna be taking some time to sort through my feelings for all of you, it’s not fair of me to expect you to just sit around the whole time and wait for me. You’re not tied.”

  
  


“you kidding?” He looked at you, one socket half open, eyelights round and fuzzy. “i was tied the second you laughed at one of my jokes.”

  
  


You went pink at that. “I’m serious.”

  
  


“me too.” He rolled over properly so his body was facing you, propping his skull up on one hand. He also had a tiny bit of blue still on his face. “don’t worry. dating or not, i love being around you. i’m not gonna go weird suddenly.”

  
  


... You smiled.

  
  


...

  
  


Then, his eyelights lit up with a familiar and (annoyingly) attractive spark. “... i guess... you could say this whole time... we were like evergreens.”

  
  


You narrowed your eyes as his grin split his face, smile falling instantly.

  
  


“Don’t you dare. We were having a moment.”

  
  


“we were both...”

  
  


“I’ll kill you.”

  
  


“... _pining.”_

  
  


You threw a pillow at him.

  
  


\---

  
  


You were half expecting Hit to confess, too, when he messaged you just after lunch. Skull and Red were chilling on the couch together (you noted, with some joy, that the two of them were sitting increasingly close to one another as the days progressed- at this point, their knees were touching!), both apparently very happy. Red looked like a guy who’d just aced a stressful exam he expected to completely bomb and Skull was just watching the TV in silence, a slight lift to the corner of his mouth.

  
  


You wondered if they’d spoken to one another about the different experiences with you they’d had this morning.

  
  


... Would Skull want a kiss too if Red told him he got one? You stared at your phone, not really reading the message, heart doing a little flip in your chest. You told Sans earlier you would’ve kissed Skull if he’d gone for it and you totally meant it. I mean, it probably stands that he wouldn’t be as good as Red, and there was a definite chance his teeth would get in the way, but... smooching that giant just seemed more and more appealing by the second.

  
  


You cleared your throat silently and tried to dispel the growing heat in your cheeks, instead focusing on the little message in front of you and heading to your room for some texting privacy.

  
  


15:11

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** how’s it going babydoll? missing me too badly?

  
  


_Babydoll?_ These nicknames. You raised your brows for a moment but decided not to bring it up, relaxing onto your bed. Texting Hit was always a good experience because you literally couldn’t use slang if you wanted him to understand a word of what you were saying.

  
  


**\- You:** yeah, totally. I’m absolutely heartbroken here without you </3

  
  


His reply was pretty much immediate.

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** that’s what i like to hear. also, that heart reminded me. guess who figured out how to use ‘‘emojis’’?

  
  


**\- You** : I dunno, grandpa, who?

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** :)

  
  


**\- You:** well aren’t you proud of yourself

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** ;) ;) <3

  
  


**\- You:** awwee, a heart. <3

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** yeah, that one certainly confused me for a while. no one would take me seriously when i asked them why they repeatedly sent me ‘less than three’ at the ends of their messages.

  
  


**\- You:** PFFT

 **\- You:** less than three

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** at first i took your ‘grandfather’ comment as a one off joke on your part but the more i experience in this timeline the more i realise that, perhaps, i am indeed a grandpa.

  
  


**\- You:** awe, don’t take it personal. At least you’re actually willing to learn about technology

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** i am... worried by the fact that that suggests there are those who aren’t.

  
  


**\- You:** boomer humour.

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** boomer what?

  
  


**\- You:** Look it up. Boomer humour.

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** what are these... strange ugly comics?

 **\- hit or miss:** why is there a small yellow person? why is it wearing goggles and blue pants? what is the joke here?

  
  


**\- You:** the future is full of terrible, terrible things.

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** i’m as confused as i am concerned.

  
  


**\- You:** it’s easier to explain in person, trust me.

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** perhaps this is something i would rather not understand

  
  


You giggled to yourself, smile wide on your face. You weren’t sure why talking to Hit was so relaxing or quite why what he said was always so funny, but you didn’t mind either way.

You cast your eyes across the room to your mirror, and suddenly remembered the beautiful black dress he’d bought for you. You’d almost forgotten, in amongst the drama of literally all of the guys in the house confessing to you at once.

  
  


... Now that you thought about it, they were technically all the same guy, right? They were all just the same skeleton with slight variations. So if Sans had been crushing on you this whole time, it made sense that the other two would like you.

  
  


... Was Hit included in that? Your face tinged pink at the thought. Two out of three universe visitors liking you could still be coincidence... But Skull’s words about your deliberate density to romantic feelings still rang in your mind. Perhaps assuming Hit liked you wasn’t _too_ big of a leap.

  
  


Besides. It wasn’t like you didn’t like him too.

  
  


**\- You:** Oh! Also! Thank you so much for the dress! It’s so beautiful. Fits like a glove

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** my pleasure.

  
  


**\- You:** though, could you ask me before you buy me anything else? I don’t want you to feel like you //have// to buy me gifts.

  
  


You hoped that didn’t come across as rude or ungrateful.

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** trust me, doll, i don’t do anything i don’t want to do.

  
  


**\- You:** strangely ominous

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** don’t worry

 **\- hit or miss:** you’re one of the things i would _very much_ like to do.

  
  


...

  
  


Hoo boy. You were right- and there goes your cheeks again. Aside from wondering how he made words go italic, you found yourself holding your phone to your chest and looking around to make sure no one saw you turn into a tomato for a moment there.

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** did i scare you off?

  
  


...

  
  


**\- You:** you’ll have to do a bit more than that to frighten me, big boy xxx

  
  


Immediately after typing it out you had to cover your own face, an unstable mixture of excitement, embarrassment and _disbelief at what you just typed out_ whirling around your head. You rolled over, letting out a tiny squeaking sound and tucking your legs up a little... you were damn lucky this conversation was happening over text, where you could pretend to be cool and collected.

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** say, do you mind if i call you? as much as i enjoy this texting feature it just isn’t the same as hearing your voice.

  
  


**\- You** : pfft, sure.

  
  


A few moments later your phone began to buzz, and you answered, holding the device to your ear, your heart starting to thump a little faster.

  
  


“Hello.”

  
  


“afternoon, doll.” Oh fuck, _his voice,_ it literally made you shiver. You could hear sounds in the background- distant cars and voices, and Hit’s own footsteps. “how’re you feeling?”

  
  


“... I’m good, thank you.” You felt like a nervous schoolgirl. “Any reason in particular you wanted to call?”

  
  


“aside from just wantin’ to hear your angelic voice?”

  
  


“Y-yes, aside from that.” _Damnit_ Hit! Stop being so smooth!

  
  


“well.” There was a shuffling on the other end that sounded like him opening and closing a bag. “was wonderin’ if you wanted to meet up again sometime soon. i already miss yer pretty face.”

  
  


You giggled. “Awe. Miss you too. What did you have in mind?”

  
  


“would it be too forward of me to ask you out to a proper dinner?” ... You blinked at that. “i know last time was a little sprung on you- casual cafe trip turned into a candlelit night out. not that i was complainin’. but... i’d really like to officially take ya somewhere nice.”

  
  


“Oh! Uhm... are you sure?”

  
  


“never been more sure.” He purred, happily. “you could even wear the dress.”

  
  


“That fancy, huh? We best be bill splitting.”

  
  


He seemed to find that funny, rolling out a few genuine chuckles. “yes, ‘that fancy’. someplace good, high quality. just the two of us.”

  
  


You smiled to yourself, voice coming out a lot warmer than you’d anticipated. “I’d love to.”

  
  


... He was quiet for a moment.

  
  


...

  
  


“s-so, what day works for you?”

  
  


“... Is tomorrow alright?” You asked, wondering to yourself what that strange little pause was, but in the end just chalking it up to him maybe tripping on something. “I go back to work soon and any later in the week would mean I’d have to leave pretty early in the evening to get a good night’s rest.”

  
  


“tomorrow works great for me. i can pick you up from the duck park at 7, if you can sneak out at that time. is that near you?”

  
  


“Oh! That’s right next to where I live!” You smiled. That was a good coincidence! It saved you from having to walk so far alone in the evening. “Well- I guess it’s settled.”

  
  


“perfect. i'm already lookin' forward to it, doll.”

  
  


\---

  
  


“When is it for?” Sam asked, as Hit entered the small office, phone in his pocket and grin sharp.

  
  


“tomorrow night.”

  
  


“Earlier than expected. Is this the one?”

  
  


The boss shrugged his coat off his shoulders and nodded. “just the fact that they're willin’ to be alone with me in the evenin’ while their lil’ buddies don’t know is proof that i don’t gotta spend any more time getting 'em to trust me.” His grin softened a little. “they're far too trusting of sanses.”

  
  


Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair.

  
  


“So. The whole plan depends on what happens next. All this over one pretty face?”

  
  


Hit removed the gun from his coat pocket. “i mean... i’d say ‘if you met them you’d understand’ but if you met them and they liked ya in any way i’d have ta kill you.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


The two men chuckled.


	23. Sentiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hit takes you for an unforgettable meal.

_they're mine. they're mine, and no one else can get in the way._

  
  


Sneaking out was far less difficult than you’d expected it to be.

  
  


You honestly anticipated being hounded with questions when you told them you were having a ‘night out with friends’. You expected Skull to pester you about what time you were getting back and whether or not you’d be safe, you expected Red to bug you about why you were wearing such a nice dress, you expected Sans to dig at you about the names of the friends or who they were.

  
  


But... you were met with support and ‘have fun’s.

  
  


You supposed, while slipping some nice shoes on (but not heels, your feet just weren’t prepared for that), that each of them confessing and getting an answer in turn had put them in very good moods. Either that or the weight of the feelings they were keeping made them stress about you, but now they felt a lot more relaxed.

  
  


I mean... both ways worked for you. But you were getting more and more uncomfortable lying about Hit’s existence as time went on. You really felt like you were keeping something very important from them.

  
  


You left the apartment and headed to the park with plenty of time to spare, your hair loosely tied up, and a warmish jacket around your shoulders and over the dress in case it got cold while you were out. It was still light outside, despite being almost 7pm, but that was just the nature of the nice summer evenings you were getting more and more used to.

  
  


Walking and standing around in such an obviously expensive and luxurious item of clothing made you feel pretty overdressed compared to the random people in jeans and shirts you’d see passing by. Your heart rate sped up a tiny bit as you began to overthink, leaning against a streetlight that wasn’t even on yet- were you too early? Were you overdressed for Hit? Had he been joking about what you were supposed to wear, and you hadn’t picked up on it? Perhaps he didn’t understand how hard it was to convey sarcasm via text? You even quickly took out your phone to check for the umpteenth time that he definitely said 7, and that it was definitely today, and _definitely_ at the park you were at.

  
  


... You sighed gently, phone back in your purse. Why were you so _nervous?_ It was just Hit.

  
  


... Just... Handsome, well dressed Hit...

  
  


... Kind and gentlemanly, and saved you from those drunk guys...

  
  


...

  
  


... You looked at the floor.

  
  


_Shit, he's out of my league._

  
  


“hey. you’re early.”

  
  


... Oh man.

  
  


His soothing, not-quite-Red baritone was like music to your nervous ears. You turned to him immediately, most of your anxiety leaking away and blowing into the nonexistent wind as a smile broke out onto your face.

  
  


“Hi! ... So are you.” You said, with a slight tease to your tone.

  
  


... He was wearing the same colour combo you’d seen when you first met him. Black pants, black tie, red shirt. But these clothes were different- for one, his tie was actually done up right, and the shirt had a red collar that was popped correctly on the outside of a silky materialed-jacket of a tight, clearly tailored fit, with golden cuffs matching the glint of his tooth. His shoes were polished to perfection with not a crease in sight, and dare you say, probably brand new.

  
  


So much for feeling overdressed.

  
  


You couldn’t help but stare at him, and he apparently couldn’t help but stare at you, a light dusting of red on his cheekbones as he took in your appearance, fiddling with a large golden ring on his index phalange.

  
  


“... You look great.” You said, genuinely, breaking the silence, fiddling with the hem of your coat. “... Definitely better than great, honestly, I just can’t come up with anything better at the moment.”

  
  


“you look breathtaking.” He said, gentle voice seemingly settling your nerves just as much as it made your heart skip faster. His sockets and eyelights were glowing softly, grin just barely catching the corners of his mouth, as if he was trying (and failing) to not smile like a doofus. “gettin’ that dress for ya was the best decision i ever made.”

  
  


You went very pink and nervously tucked some hair out of your face, conscious of it tickling your cheek.

  
  


... He offered his arm. You smiled and took it gladly, admiring his handsome face in the plentiful evening light. He was here. He’d shown up. And... he’d said you looked _breathtaking._

  
  


“... aw geez.” He rubbed his face as the two of you started to walk, the redness spreading- was he sweating under his hat? You couldn’t tell. “sorry, i’m not usually this... fumbly. i feel like i shoulda said somethin’ else or somethin’ classier.”

  
  


“A genuine compliment never hurt anyone. Besides- I guess we’re both a bit awkward and nervous tonight.” You allowed some shoulder tension to ease away.

  
  


“definitely.” He all but wheezed, pulling slightly at his collar, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “nervousness is a new feeling to me.”

  
  


“Well.” You squeezed his arm a little. “Hopefully you don’t have to get used to it.”

  
  


“hopefully.” He purred, winking. “hold on, gonna take a shortcut. s’better than walkin’ the whole way.”

  
  


Hit gently moved his arm to rest lightly on your side, just above your waist. You instinctively closed your eyes, and felt the familiar feeling of being teleported through nothingness, of passing through that empty space between time and existence that made you feel so cold and so watched.

  
  


It was a sensation you’d definitely _never_ get used to experiencing.

  
  


... And when you reopened your eyes, you were standing in another private venue of a restaurant. You immediately inhaled a tiny, pleasantly surprised inhale at the sight of your surroundings.

  
  


Unlike the first restaurant Hit had taken you to, this one seemed so much more...

  
  


_... Welcoming._

  
  


The previous place had been black in feeling, crystal and posh, expensive and far from casual. Somewhere frequented by high-class society with too much money and too much time on their hands, who looked down their noses at people like you. Somewhere you would only ever see the inside of because you happened to be on the arm of a man like Hit, who had the key to that kind of luxury.

  
  


But this place... It was a decently sized room with a high ceiling and a door at the other end that you could vaguely hear voices through, clueing you that that was the entrance back into the regular restaurant. There was a cute swirly pattern on the carpet under your feet. The walls, warmed near the ceiling by an odd fluctuating rainbow light, were just a plain white- they weren’t overly decorated or lathered with expensive colours and paper, they weren’t assaulting your eyes from all angles and making you feel poor. The table that Hit was leading you to, directly in front of you, had comfy-looking white leather chairs and a glass top.

  
  


But what caught your attention was the light source.

  
  


You looked up to see where the gentle ambient light was coming from- and gasped like a dazed child.

  
  


Instead of one big chandelier like the first place (and most other places you’d been to), this one had many lights; dozens of little transparent orbs near the ceiling that slowly cycled over all the colours of the rainbow. They were gathered at the top, as if someone had let go of hundreds of tiny helium balloons and stopped time _just_ before the first one hit the roof of the ceiling. It was incredible- they seemed no bigger than your head! You couldn’t see any lamp filament inside them either, let alone any wires suspending them from the roof... they were simply glowing with magic. They definitely didn’t seem to be anything of human invention; floating, glowing rainbow orbs were out of magicless science as far as you knew.

  
  


The way they hung there, like a collection of glass bubbles, totally unmoving and so _beautiful..._ You couldn’t tear your eyes away, even as you sat at the table with your date opposite you.

  
  


“... i take it you like the restaurant?” Hit asked, after a few moments of you just silently admiring the ceiling, his voice full of soft amusement. You forced your eyes away from the orbs and turned to him, possibly the most starstruck expression you ever had in your _life_ plastered to your face.

  
  


“I _love_ it.”

  
  


... For a moment, he blinked, and you could’ve sworn his eyelights looked like hearts in the soothing glow. But then they were gone again, so you assumed they must have been tricks of the light.

  
  


“well, hey.” His grin grew wider. “if ya like that, wait ‘til ya see this.”

  
  


Hit looked up, reached his hand a little off the table and made a gesture similar to a ‘come here’ beckon with his index finger, the gemstone in one of his rings flashing in the light. You followed his line of sight upwards and watched (in complete awe) as one of the orbs was encased in a shimmery red glow and slowly, but surely, floated down from the ceiling to you. You instinctively held your hands out as it came closer like a falling petal and dropped into your hands.

  
  


The red glow faded to reveal the true rainbow splendor of the orb.

  
  


... You looked at him like he’d just given you definitive proof that santa has, in fact, been real this whole time.

  
  


“O-oh my God!” You exclaimed, sliding your hand over the smooth surface. It felt warm to the touch, like picking up a dark pebble that’d been bathing for hours in sunlight at the beach... there was nothing inside it, nor any dust on the top like you would’ve expected from something hanging around the ceiling all day. You were right- it was about the size of your head. The ‘glass’ seemed to be about an inch thick and you could faintly smell cherries. “I-it... It’s a rainbow!”

  
  


“it sure is.” He chuckled. You looked back at him to see him all but grinning from ear to ear, resting his chin on his hand- he winked when the two of you made eye contact. “sorry, i just... i love how yer whole face lights up when you’re excited. when you’re done just throw it upwards.”

  
  


“... Throw it?” You parroted, your gaze again drifting into the beautiful swirls of bright colour. It was like one of those amazing fibre optic lamps.

  
  


“mhm.”

  
  


... Eventually, the sphere became slightly too warm in your hands. You followed Hit’s advice and (probably far too gently) threw it upwards- then watched, in awe yet again, as it floated to the ceiling like a glass balloon and settled back into its original position amongst its brethren.

  
  


...

  
  


“Wow.” You breathed, finally turning to Hit for good. “That was...”

  
  


...

  
  


You chuckled, slightly embarrassed at your very _human_ fixation on shiny things. “Well, I’m... I’m sorry you had to watch me stare at a blob for however long I just did.”

  
  


“it was fun.” He purred.

  
  


You looked around at the restaurant again as Hit pulled up the menu and started glancing over it. “How did you get in here anyway?”

  
  


... He raised his brow at you over the menu. Damn, he was handsome.

  
  


You giggled, picking up yours too. “Another ‘favour’?”

  
  


“how _did_ you guess?” He grinned, tooth flashing.

  
  


“Makes me wonder how many people are in your debt right now.” What the hell was ‘rouille’? “For you to be able to call so many expensive favours.”

  
  


He didn’t answer that particular observation. “so. you picked somethin’ yet?”

  
  


“I’ll pick once you tell me what half the words on this menu actually mean.”

  
  


... That made him laugh again, his shoulders shaking a little as his face screwed up into a ‘I can’t believe this dope is for real’ kind of face. “why don’t we just start with the wines, then?”

  
  


\---

  
  


“So I’m sitting there, barbecue sauce on my whole chest...”

  
  


Hit choked on a tiny piece of his food and hit (haha) his chest with his fist, trying to stop himself wheezing with laughter.

  
  


The night had gone beautifully. Hit had roughly translated everything on the menu for you over a shared bottle of wine and you’d finally been able to make a choice... though you feel like you drank the majority of the wine.

  
  


For the team, of course.

  
  


All the meals seemed a bit excessive and daunting, and when you expressed that sentiment to Hit he advised just getting a good old-fashioned pasta dish. You were happy when it arrived and it may have been a _tad_ too refined for your plebeian pallette, what, with the shape of the pasta and the creamy texture of the sauce, but you were pleased at the amount of food on the plate (didn’t expensive restaurants usually do tiny portions of nothingness?), and just how well seasoned the whole thing was.

  
  


Plus, there was no one here but Hit, so you could stuff your face without having to worry about looking like a food expert, or not knowing what the thinly diced green vegetable in the sauce even _was._

  
  


And another thing that made the meal so good was how unbelievably _fun_ it was to just be _around_ Hit. Even before the alcohol got involved. Granted, it took a little while to break out of that initial awkwardness of ‘I’m on such an expensive date, holy shit, what the hell do I say to him?’, but he easily coaxed you out of your funk with his general aura and tone before the plates even arrived. If you weren’t blushing at his gentlemanly advances, you were cackling at one of his stories, or grinning to yourself because you managed to make him laugh that smooth, wonderful laugh.

  
  


God, you loved his laugh.

  
  


As you got steadily more buzzed from the oddly _potent_ wine you started jumping into slightly more adventurous stories; and you were pleasantly surprised by his reaction. So you kept going.

  
  


“My friend is yelling at the top of her lungs-”

  
  


“well i don’t blame her!” Hit exclaimed, clear amusement in his tone, and you had to try hard not to laugh and inhale your last bit of food. “this is... what, the _fourth_ time ya got into the condiments?”

  
  


“Exactly!” You pointed your fork at him, giggling uncontrollably. “She didn’t learn a thing! First ketchup, then the mayo, then _vinegar..._ and now bbq sauce!”

  
  


“honestly i thought ya would’ve spilt the vinegar.” He pointed his fork at you too, corners of his sockets crinkling. “an’ i don’t think susie is the one who didn’t learn anything. three weeks later and yer still mistaking condiments fer water. how do ya do that _four times?”_

  
  


You made a jazz-handish gesture, and winked. “With _style.”_

  
  


For some reason you couldn’t understand he thought that was side-splittingly hilarious, and took a good few seconds with his face hidden by his arm propped on the table as his other hand smacked the surface in a fist to recuperate himself. When he looked back up he was all but grinning from ear to ear, small red tears forming at the corners of his sockets.

  
  


“with _style...”_ He wheezed, voice high and almost cracking, picking up his wine glass and taking a sip. “i fuckin’ can’t. i’m gonna choke on my food.”

  
  


“Well I’m glad my sense of humour made a safe landing.” You still felt flattered you could make him laugh. “I was worried I was gonna be getting too vulgar for you.”

  
  


“pft, what?” He cocked his head a little. “whadya mean?”

  
  


You had some slight awkwardness in your tone, a tiny bit of the laughter falling away. “Y’know... grandpa Hit, and all. I suppose I thought that the folk where you’re from have different standards. Was scared you’d think I was gross, or out of line.”

  
  


“you kiddin’?” Hit chortled, putting his wine glass back on the table. “it’s not the vulgarity itself- trust me. i know some people you’d get along swimmingly with. it’s just... it’s how open and _unafraid_ you are.” His eyelights were sparkling like nothing you’d ever seen before. “you aren’t scared of lookin’ weird or undesirable and it just comes right back around into makin’ you that much more fun to be around. nearly everyone i know- they wanna look clean and faultless, they wanna look confident sexually. their idea of vulgar is tellin’ me what they want me to do to them in bed; your idea of vulgar is...” He snorted “tellin’ me about spilling barbecue sauce on yer tits after a drunk night gone wrong. it’s refreshing.”

  
  


You giggled, glad to have struck a chord of some kind with him.

  
  


He looked you up and down, his face starting to flush. “... every part of you, every body language signal, it’s all open and inviting and you’re totally willing to tell me about embarrassing or shitty life events. it just... bleeds confidence. that’s one of the things i love about you. you’re just... god, you’re _different._ different in the _best_ way, i just...”

  
  


...

  
  


He leant forward, carmine-cheeked, reached across the table and grabbed both your hands in his.

  
  


“come back with me.”

  
  


... _What?_

  
  


... You blinked, finding yourself looking deep into his ruby eyelights. They... they were _definitely_ hearts. You hadn’t been imagining it. “What?”

  
  


“i wasn’t supposed to ask now, but i...” He shook his head and held your hands tighter. “come back to my universe with me. i’ve found a way back, you could live with me an’ my brother an’ never have to worry about anything again for the rest of your life. i wanna look after you, i wanna make you happy, happy with _me.”_

  
  


... You were totally taken aback. “H... Hit, what?”

  
  


...

  
  


He looked deep into your eyes. He looked like he was searching for something. You were sat completely still, confused, not sure what to say or do. It was such a sudden leap from joking and laughing about anecdotes to him... what, asking you to leave with him forever (?) that you were left completely reeling.

  
  


... That tiny, adventurous, totally-got-a-thing-for-Hit part of you that wanted to immediately leap across the table into his arms and go with was loudly encouraged by the same alcohol that was slowing your ability to think of a way to react.

  
  


... But... before you even thought to say yes, you saw Sans’s face. You saw Red’s face, you saw Skull’s face.

  
  


And you just couldn’t.

  
  


...

  
  


... When Hit didn’t find what he was looking for, his eyelights returned to normal, and the blush faded- the grip on your hands loosened.

  
  


“... you don’t want to go.” His voice was small.

  
  


...

  
  


“... I’m sorry.” It was all you could get out. The tonal shift was just too much- you didn’t know what to say or how to... how to do _anything._ “I can’t... just leave my friends and family behind...”

  
  


There was something in his face for a moment. For a split second.

  
  


...

  
  


He sighed, sockets shutting, and sat back... still holding onto your hands. But he... he seemed...

  
  


... Alright?

  
  


He didn’t look angry, like you thought you just saw a moment ago. And you figured a guy like him might get a bit pissy after having such a... _passionate_ confession/request rejected.

  
  


But when he opened his eyesockets up again, there was nothing but embarrassment and understanding.

  
  


...

  
  


“... I mean, I don’t think I’d really fit in with the 1920s.” You said, jokingly, your hands still in his, trying to alleviate the tension that accompanied the silence. You got a nice chuckle in return.

  
  


“yeah, you’d probably be tellin’ our futures, wouldn’t you?” He hummed, perhaps a tad _too_ unbothered.

  
  


Something... something wasn’t right with his reaction.

  
  


...

  
  


You played it off as alcohol mixing with nervousness. You were alone in a room with him, he was much bigger and stronger than you, you were slightly drunk and you’d just rejected his... ‘confession’. It was only natural that you’d be a bit worried, right?

  
  


Besides. He was an okay guy. He didn’t seem like the type to do anything insane or drastic because someone rejected his offer to go universe hopping with him.

  
  


Right?

  
  


“... I’m sorry, I really like you.” You said, trying to amend the situation more. “I just...”

  
  


“no, no, don’t apologise.” He stroked the skin on the top of your hands. “it’s alright. i got a bit tipsy, bit too forward. i shouldn’t have asked. i don’t think even i really expected ya to _willingly_ drop your entire life to come live with a guy you’ve only known for the best part of a month, anyway.”

  
  


That made your shoulders unwind, and you just smiled at him, _so_ relieved he was being cool about it. Your smile made him grin back, apparently pleased with your reaction.

  
  


_I’m very lucky they’re all so chill about being rejected. Otherwise I’d fear for my safety, haha._

  
  


“... anyway.” He squeezed your hands, and let go. “let’s get some dessert to take our minds off the really, _really_ embarrasin’ thing i just did back there, huh?”

  
  


\---

  
  


When you got home (Hit dropping you back off to the park), the apartment was asleep, with all the lights off and the only sound was the hum of cars passing outside. And that made sense, after all- it was almost one in the morning. The guys had gone to bed... which made you sigh with relief, as you were half expecting at least one of them to be waiting by the door for you to come home, like a sad dog. The kitchen was mostly cleaned, too.

  
  


... Besides. You were too tired to clean, or do anything else vaguely active today. You just needed to sleep off all that food and alcohol.

  
  


You shrugged your coat off your shoulders, yawning and hanging it up, heading straight to your bedroom without a second thought. You didn’t notice that there was a light on in there until you pushed the door open and saw your bedside lamp on, gently illuminating the other side of the room.

  
  


And the moment the door opened, Red immediately jumped up, shoved something behind him and slammed the book he was reading shut with one hand.

  
  


He was on your bed, on his usual side, in his classic red pj pants and black shirt.

  
  


... You could clearly see the sweat starting to form on his skull and the slight tint on his cheekbones.

  
  


...

  
  


... A few moments of silence.

  
  


...

  
  


“... Red.” You said, your voice suspicious. “What are you doing?”

  
  


“was just readin’.” He mumbled. The hand he had pushed behind him came back around and held onto the book as well, a slight nervous bounce in his phalange tips.

  
  


... You narrowed your eyes.

  
  


“Don’t go anywhere.”

  
  


You grabbed your pjs and quickly scooted to the bathroom to change as fast as possible. Your mind was racing a little, wondering what on Earth he could’ve been hiding... Red, the confident bastard himself, too embarrassed to show you something?

  
  


Was it bad?

  
  


When you returned, he was sweating far more, slightly hunched over, facial expression akin to that of a kid who’d been caught misbehaving and was waiting for his parents to come home and tell him off.

  
  


... You didn’t waste any time- you stood beside the bed and folded your arms, tapping your foot, raising your eyebrows and waiting for him to say something.

  
  


...

  
  


“Red.” You said, unimpressed.

  
  


“s’ _nothin’,_ ok?” He grumbled, refusing to make eye contact.

  
  


... That was when you noticed, with a small blink to make sure you weren’t seeing anything, that right on his temple was... a piece of _washi tape?_ It was the kind you had in a little roll on your desk and used for pretty much anything that needed sticking- papers, photos, even images to go on the wall. It was purple, with little soft white cartoon stars.

  
  


And... stuck to Red.

  
  


... You reached over and caught a corner with a nail, peeling it off of him in one and bringing it closer to you to inspect it in the low light. Red’s spine immediately went blackboard straight, a small, random sputtering noise falling out from between his dagger teeth as his mind tried (and failed) to quickly supply him with an excuse.

  
  


“...Why do you have _washi tape_ on your skull?” You asked, looking back up to him, more utterly confused than mad now. You felt like the alcohol was definitely slowing your ability to join any dots, leaving you pretty nonplussed about the whole situation. Were you missing something? Clear and utter embarrassment, a book, hiding something, tape on his head...?

  
  


His eyelights darted around like fish in a barrel for a few moments, as you waited for a response of any kind.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


... He sighed, rubbing the back of his skull- and also removing a second piece of tape from the other side that you couldn’t see. He didn’t give you any verbal cues- he just patted the spot in bed next to him that you usually occupied during cuddle sessions.

  
  


... You took the invitation and settled with your legs under the duvet, ready (and strangely nervous) to hear his explanation.

  
  


“...” He held up the book a little so you could see the title. You had to lean forward a tad.

  
  


“... Order of the Phoenix?” You read aloud, confused, looking up at him. You’d had that book for forever- the spine was creased where past you had obsessively poured over the pages until worryingly late in the night.

  
  


“... i managed ta find most of the series in the dumps.” He said, slow. “i guess there was just a lot of it, since it was so popular up here, y’know? but... i never found a complete order of the phoenix. or deathly hallows. they were so big that mosta the pages would’ve soaked and stuck together or been ruined.” He chuckled, but there was an odd hystericism to it as he turned to you, eyelights small and brows high. “you got any idea how hard it sucks to get three quarters of a way through a book only ta find the last pages are completely unreadable? or t’never be able to find the last book in the goddamn series? it was torture.”

  
  


“... So you’ve been reading these at night?” You asked, sitting up a little more, not wanting to imagine for a _moment_ not being able to read the last part of your favourite book.

  
  


He nodded. “don’t want the others to make fun of me.”

  
  


“Why would they make fun of you? Harry Potter is the cool kind of popular. You could read it in public and probably get a high five.”

  
  


“it ain’t the book, sweetheart.”

  
  


... Your brows drew further together as you looked at him. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands, voice slightly muffled.

  
  


“jus... promise you won’t laugh, aight?” He sounded slightly pained as he looked up to the ceiling, as if internally praying to some higher being that this would work out. “if you laugh i don’t think i could handle it.”

  
  


“... O... kay...?” You watched, now slightly worried, as he teleported a small, cylindrical object into his hand, and flicked it open. Inside was your washi tape roll, and...

  
  


...

  
  


... Oh my God.

  
  


You watched, in hesitant amazement, as Red put something on his face and turned to face you again.

  
  


...

  
  


... They were the roundest, _nerdiest_ glasses you had _ever seen_ in your _life._

  
  


He’d taped the ends to his skull to keep them on his nasal ridge. They obviously had to be round enough to cover his entire eyesocket in order to work for him, which just added to the almost _comedic_ value of it all. The rim was thin and golden like his tooth, and lenses themselves weren’t actually that thick, so there wasn’t any distortion to his features- it was just the greatest thing in the world to see the usually so badass, confident and _sexy_ Red put on something so goddamn cute.

  
  


He was, ironically, wearing giant Harry Potter glasses.

  
  


...

  
  


You couldn’t help it. A tiny snort broke through, despite you pressing your lips together as hard as you could and trying your absolute best to keep your face straight.

  
  


“you promised you wouldn’t laugh.” He said, face flushed deep with embarrassment and hands curled in so harshly the duvet you (briefly) worried it was going to rip.

  
  


“I-I’m not laughing.” You said, voice tight and thin as you forced the edges of your mouth downwards.

  
  


He looked so betrayed. “you’re laughing.”

  
  


“N-no, Red, I’m-” You forced in a little gasp. “I’m sorry, you just look so adorable-”

  
  


“i’m not adorable!” He said, and... in his attempt to be completely serious, the intense juxtaposition between his deep velvety voice and the dumbass fucking glasses was too much.

  
  


Your hold on your laughter cracked and you just started giggling uncontrollably for the umpteenth time that night, alcohol and Red’s embarrassing secret just turning out to not be a very good combo. Red flushed even harder, and even turned to get out of the bed- but you grabbed his arm, putting your face on his shoulder and forcing some giggles back.

  
  


“No, n-no, don’t go.”

  
  


“this was a mistake.” He said, voice thinner than you’d ever heard it before under the weight of his mortification.

  
  


“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You clung harder. “I just love it too much. I can’t handle it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

  
  


... He paused, turning to you, brows knitted together- but an odd look of hopefulness was written all over his features.

  
  


“... you... love it?”

  
  


You sat up and pressed an eager smooch to his cheekbone, cupping the other, feeling said surface get even hotter and start to buzz with magic.

  
  


“I _love_ it. You should wear them more often.” You snuggled against his chest. “They kinda suit you, in a weird way.”

  
  


...

  
  


He relaxed back into the pillows a little, with you still leaning heavily on him. He still had some crimson dusting his face but it was starting to fade now; not to mention his eyelights were large and fuzzy.

  
  


“i guess...” He said, softly. “... i guess i can live with that.”

  
  


“Are they just reading glasses?” You asked, curious.

  
  


He nodded. “got thwacked real hard on the skull by my dad as a babybones. fucked up my vision- i’m long sighted.”

  
  


“How close up can you see?” You were eager to get him away from his initial embarrassment and awkwardness so you could admire this rare sight.

  
  


“... hm. bout this far.” He held his hand up in front of his face, about 30 or 40 centimetres away. “it’s clear past there. inside of that it’s all blurry shapes an’ shit. even worse for words- then they gotta be, like, _this_ far for it not to hurt when i try ta focus.” He held out his arm at full length. “phones are difficult but ya can make the words bigger. can’t with books. so i gotta use my special-ass nerd glasses whenever i want to read.”

  
  


“I suppose it ruins your tough-guy persona, huh?” You started playing with the collar of his shirt. He took the glasses off, removing the tape, folding the temples and setting them gently on the bedside table, before shuffling so the two of you were lying flat with his hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing a thumb over the bare skin.

  
  


You noted to yourself, with a little smile, that no matter the skeleton, and no matter the universe... they all liked stroking your skin.

  
  


“few things ruin it more.” He chuckled, and you enjoyed the way his chest bounced. “at least if i wore a dress or somethin’ i’d look fuckin’ fabulous and i’d easily pull it off. i can’t pull those transparent dinner plates off.”

  
  


“I think they look great.” You reminded him, pouting.

  
  


“well,” he turned his face a little, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “you’ve always been weird like that, huh?”

  
  


You giggled.

  
  


... The two of you spent your last few minutes of consciousness with Red’s fingers gently combing through your knotted hair, your breath tickling his sternum.

  
  


\---

  
  


“... You look disappointed.” Sam noted, as Hit sat down heavily in his chair, rubbing a thick ringed skeletal hand over his face.

  
  


“i got drunk and sentimental.” He grunted, pissed, finding himself out of smokes. “they looked pretty, started ramblin’... asked the question. they said no. so now we gotta do this the hard way.”

  
  


... Sam’s brows drew together. “You asked them to go with you? On the _second date?”_

  
  


He grumbled, face sinking deeper into his hands as he thought about how desperately he had searched your face for some kind of affirmation that you wanted to go with. And the worst part was, he’d _seen_ it- he’d seen a small spark in there, a little part of you that wanted to take his hand and jump into the unknown. “... some stupid part of me thought they might say yes just ‘cause i’d taken 'em someplace nice.”

  
  


... But you were held away from him by those fucking other hims. _Again._

  
  


“Boss, that sets us forward about three _months.”_ Sam stammered. “We’re barely prepared. Why?”

  
  


“i just told ya.”

  
  


“Because you got _sentimental?”_

  
  


Hit shut his sockets, starting to lose patience with his underling.

  
  


“Sentimentality for this one ditz could cost us everything. Weren’t _you_ the one that told me not to let emotions get in the way? Besides, I thought you said you were expecting them to say no, which is why you’re even _planning_ to-”

  
  


“ **of course i fuckin’** _ **expected**_ **it, that don’t mean it don’t fucking** _ **hurt,**_ **you stupid-”**

  
  


Sam didn’t realise he was on his feet until the chair clattered to the carpeted ground under him. Hit didn’t realise quite how ready he was to kill his underling until he felt the ache of his hollow sockets and the sharp sting of wood splinters digging into his phalanges, that were wrapped so tightly around the edge of his desk that the wood had crumpled like a paper model.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Hit sighed, falling back into his chair.

  
  


“... sorry, buddy.”

  
  


...

  
  


Sam sighed too, pulling his chair back up and sitting it closer to Hit’s desk than before. He uncapped the squat, expensive, glittering bottle of alcohol sitting idly on a little tray and poured two small glasses of the strongly scented honey-brown liquid.

  
  


“Guess rejection is pretty new on you, huh?” He noted, with a hint of sarcasm, holding a glass out to his boss.

  
  


Hit chuckled, with a hint of tiredness, and took the peace offering gladly, the leather of the chair creaking under his weight.

  
  


“To the ‘hard way’.” Sam mock toasted, raising the glass a little before knocking it back.

  
  


... Hit grinned.

  
  


“to the hard way.”


	24. Rainy break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightening  
> (Galileo, Galileo, Galileo, Galileo)

_they're hiding something from me. i’m certain of it._

  
  


When you arrived at work in the morning, the sky was bright blue, sunlight glaring down and turning the tarmac beneath your feet into something akin to the roasting bottom of a black frying pan. It was too hot for jeans, or pants- a skirt was the only warm-day-specific thing you could find in your closet that was smart and your boss would approve of. Really warm weather was amazing in theory, but in practise it just made your walk to work all the more miserable.

  
  


So you honestly expected the walk home to be similar, at most a _little_ less hot, considering it would be later in the day.

  
  


... You were wrong.

  
  


It started with a simple weather alert on your phone- that you completely ignored because you were in the middle of scheduling some clean-shaven CEO nutcase his next appointment with your boss. He smelled of polo mints and superiority complexes and absolutely would _not_ allow you to book him anywhere outside of the next two weeks despite your full schedule and winning customer service smiles.

  
  


The sky got progressively darker outside. Since your desk was so close to the door you heard when the wind changed- when papers and pages in your logbooks began to flutter every time the automatic door opened, when a slight chill brushed past your arms that was just cold enough to make you put a jacket around your shoulders and pay a tad more attention to the weather.

  
  


And by the time you were scheduled to be going home, the heavens had opened.

  
  


Rain poured in _walls,_ unrelenting and lightning fast, falling so heavily a layer of fine mist formed on the tarmac upon impact. Or, like your grandma used to say- it was coming down in ‘ropes’. You always felt like that was a much better idiom than ‘it’s raining cats and dogs’ simply because it made more visual sense.

  
  


According to the weather forecast that you never bothered to check, a huge, _huge_ storm had formed off the coast and was barreling toward where you lived. The insane _cata doxa_ rain you were seeing with increasing dread as you tidied the reception and turned off your computer was just the outer reaches of it- the tips of the fingers that were sweeping over the country.

  
  


... You had to walk _home_ in that.

  
  


... You sighed, resigned to a watery fate. Hopefully your jacket would be enough. It wasn’t technically _that_ far, right? You’d walked home in similar conditions.

  
  


\---

  
  


The jacket wasn’t enough.

  
  


You opened the door, soaked to the fucking bone, hair plastered to your face, and clothes serving more as skintight tissue paper than anything warming. You could hear the drips hitting the floor from literally every end of your body- clothing, fingertips, chin, eyelashes. Thank _God_ for whatever magic Sans had pulled on the heating to make your apartment so much warmer than all the others- if you’d had to come home to a freezing cold room you probably would’ve just dropped dead rather than deal with that.

  
  


Your wet clothes went directly in the laundry and you changed straight into some PJs; no way you were leaving the apartment today, you literally could hear the wind and rain hitting the outer walls from _inside._ And the visible rain- the sheets of it drumming against the window- were _slamming_ into the glass, making it impossible to see out of, to the point where it looked like someone was just spraying the window with a high pressure hose.

  
  


_No one_ was going _anywhere_ today.

  
  


You headed into the living room, hair still wet, intent on relaxing into the couch and possibly getting a blanket for yourself to disappear into. You kinda needed a shower, but... eh, you really couldn’t be bothered right now. Maybe it was just the weather itself, but... your energy just seemed to be sapping away from you with every passing moment? Like a spell was being cast over you... over the whole city, as more and more people hurried home to shut their doors and lock their windows against the oncoming storm.

  
  


... No blankets on the back of the couch. You sighed, disappointed, heading over- you were hoping for at least a small one, for effect if anything. You figured you could just put on a hoodie but dammit it just wasn’t the _same_ as a blanket. Maybe Red had stolen them all? He seemed like the type to...

  
  


... You blinked.

  
  


... There was another option.

  
  


Skull’s jacket was lying haphazardly over the back of the sofa, one arm hanging one way and another the opposite. Skull himself was nowhere to be seen- probably sleeping, or in the kitchen.

  
  


You shuffled over and traced the hood gently, feeling the slightly matted fur trim that looked almost _spikey_ compared to Sans’s. You’d just been internally monologuing about how blankets and hoodie weren’t the same but Skull’s was so huge that it basically _was_ a blanket for you. ... Would Skull mind if you borrowed it for a little while? It wasn’t a boyfriend jacket if he wasn’t your boyfriend, right? And you’d take it off in a minute. It was just for now.

  
  


Just for a bit.

  
  


...

  
  


You gathered it up. It was a hell of a lot of fabric to have in your arms at once, but you managed to find the arm holes in the swathes of washed-out blue and fur, wriggling into it with mild difficulty and adjusting it in various places until it untangled and fell down your body to its full length.

  
  


... God, it was _heavy._ And it was like a dress on you! You paused just to look down at yourself. The bottom of the jacket hung juuust below your knees, and the sleeves had at least another half of an arm to go before the end, flopping around every time your hands moved. You were all but _swimming_ in this particular item of clothing.

  
  


...

  
  


You giggled and jumped onto the couch, curling up into yourself and closing the sides around your knees, feeling like a tiny protected field mouse in its little nest... a tiny fish in an ocean of heavy, warm clothing. It smelled comforting too- Skull’s familiar snowy, tangy iron scent, embedded deep into the fabric from months of being worn.

  
  


You sighed, happy. _This_ was how you wanted to spend your rainy day.

  
  


...

  
  


Eventually, after a few moments, you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the couch and deciding to turn the tv on to watch something. You didn’t really care what- maybe there was a good show on Netflix? Or maybe today was just a ‘rewatch a movie you’ve seen a thousand times’ kind of da-

  
  


...

  
  


Skull was standing right behind the couch, eyelight boring into you with a oh-so-familiar intensity. His smile was set in a thin line, hands gripping the back of the sofa.

  
  


...

  
  


You squeaked and jumped, finally processing that he was there, almost rolling straight off the couch.

  
  


H-how long had he been standing there for?! You immediately drew the sides of the jacket around you despite your embarrassment at being caught wearing his clothes- as if you were instinctively trying to hide inside the heavy folds of material that smelled so comforting and familiar.

  
  


“O-oh my God, Skull, you scared me.” You blabbered, face heating up as you tried to maintain eye contact. You _completely_ forgot how silently he could move- you only ever heard Skull’s footsteps when he _wanted_ you to hear them.

  
  


... Silence on his end. He was doing that thing where he made it impossible to read him and set you quickly on edge.

  
  


His eyelight rolled down a little, very clearly surveying his giant jacket swallowing your tiny body.

  
  


... Ah. Maybe he was attached to his clothes or something? Perhaps something he picked up from his time underground. You wouldn’t put it past him. You really should’ve asked him before you put his stuff on.

  
  


“S... sorry...” You sighed, rolling your shoulder a little to pull it out of the sleeve. “I’ll, uhm, just... take it o-”

  
  


Skull silently reached over and pulled the bottom of the jacket together. You paused, confused, as he slowly zipped it up all the way to under your chin, tucked your hair behind your face, and pulled the oversized hood right over your head.

  
  


...

  
  


... And then laughed.

  
  


...

  
  


Well, it was more like a giggle. A small chuckle, just a few breaths, as a warm blue flush spread over his cheekbones like watercolour sinking into paper. His eyelight was so round and large and his smile was wobbling at the corners, shaking with a restrained emotion of some kind, and for a second you could’ve sworn there was a light in his broken, lax socket.

  
  


... Skull... _laughed?!_

  
  


You were so completely blown away, so surprised, that you didn’t even register him coming around the sofa and scooping your tiny body up into his arms seemingly without even thinking, one around your back and another under your legs. He laughed again, this time a little quieter, bringing you up a bit so he could affectionately nuzzle the side of your face, just between your ear and cheek.

  
  


... You couldn’t help but let out a tiny laugh too, but it was more of a slightly taken aback laugh combined with your ticklishness from his breath on your face. You’d _never_ heard Skull laugh before! Not even once! Not even _sarcastically!_ This was amazing! It felt like you were seeing a part of him that hadn’t seen light since before the accident.

  
  


A genuinely happy, comfortable part of him.

  
  


“y... you’re so...” He stopped nudging your face with his and instead turned and sat heavily into the couch cushions, still cradling you like a large embarrassed child. “you’re so _tiny._ you look like... you’re wearing a dress.”

  
  


“... Pfft. _Feels_ like I’m wearing a dress.” You muttered, wiggling your arms a little to show the almost 30cm extra you had at the end of the sleeve. “Look at this- I’m not even close.”

  
  


“you look cute.”

  
  


You went pink at that, glancing up at him. His face was so obviously adoring and loving that you could barely handle it.

  
  


He pushed back into another nuzzle, this time just keeping his face on yours, clearly savouring the bone-on-skin contact and the private time the two of you were having. You stroked the side of his cheekbone still visible, feeling rather like you were petting a giant cat.

  
  


Now that you thought about it, Skull was pretty cat-like. Only tolerates attention from the designated ‘favourite’ person, could scratch your eyes out if you got him mad, general needs/wants in life can be narrowed down solely to 1) food and 2) unlimited attention... seems aloof and mean, but that’s only due to first appearances, and deep down is a loving ball of fluff and gentleness.

  
  


“i dunno what i’d do without you. i love you.” He sighed, deep and warm. “... you’re just... i can’t get over that you’re... wearing my clothes. hehe.”

  
  


“S-sorry about... randomly stealing your jacket-”

  
  


Skull, with the ends of two giant phalanges, gently enough to hold a baby bird, pinched your lips together to silence you. You blinked- you were actually pretty impressed with his carefulness and strength control, considering it was just strong enough to press your lips together, but not enough to hurt or properly pin them.

  
  


“told you. you look cute. ... take it anytime.” He smiled. “makes it smell like you.”

  
  


You opened your mouth to reply, and-

  
  


_Clunk._

  
  


...

  
  


The power went out. The lights flickered, sputtered, and died.

  
  


Suddenly, the two of you were engulfed in blueish darkness, the only visible light being that coming through the rain-beaten windows.

  
  


You sat up, and Skull paused, removing his hands from your face and looking up at the lightbulb, a crease forming between his brows.

  
  


“... what...”

  
  


“hey lovebirds. hope i ain’t interrupting.” Red suddenly materialised out of nothing, leaning on the back of the couch, just as Sans opened the kitchen door to glance around the living room. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, just sticking to that goddamn hot shirt. “mind if i ask what the hell just happened?”

  
  


“The lights went out.” You mumbled, getting up off of Skull’s lap to hurry over to the window. You pushed your hands up against it and peered through the fogged, condensed glass at the street below. “No streetlights. Looks like the neighbours are out too. Maybe a power line was hit?”

  
  


“storm must’ve done something.” Sans hummed.

  
  


You looked over your shoulder at your roommates. Skull still on the couch where you left him, Red leaning over the back, and Sans standing nearby with a half-dried plate in his hands, all staring at you as if waiting for you to make another statement.   
... It was definitely strange to see all of their eyelights glowing in the gloom; it wasn’t exactly pitch black in the apartment but it certainly wasn’t bright either, and their eyelights pierced the darkness like the reflections of the eyes of a pack of wolves in the night.

  
  


Sometimes you forgot how different from you they really were.

  
  


“Looks like we’re going to have to actually talk to each oth-”

  
  


A loud thunderclap interrupted you, reverberating through the apartment and rolling across the city like a shockwave. Skull _immediately_ jumped out of his seat in shock, faster than you’d ever seen him move, eyelight contracting to half it’s original size, and Red stood bolt upright like the lightning had struck him down the spine.

  
  


“what the _fuck_ was that?!” Red asked, sockets wide with apparent panic, tiny eyelights darting around the room. Skull seemed similarly alarmed but had apparently gone into freeze mode- he wasn’t even breathing. You could’ve mistaken him for someone’s large art project.

  
  


“Woah, woah! Hey hey hey hey!” You turned away from the window to face them, arms out, slightly taken aback by their violent reaction. Why were they so jumpy...? “It’s fine, it’s fine! It’s just thunder!”

  
  


“... s’ probably from the lightning that knocked out the power.” Sans said, completely unfazed, poofing the plate out of his hands to avoid having to walk around in the dark. ... Though, he probably just didn’t want to walk entirely- the darkness was no factor. Monsters had incredible night vision.

  
  


“thunder? lighnin’?” Red repeated, even more confused.

  
  


Sans shrugged, grinning at you and winking. “ten easy cheap steps to overcoming your fear of lightning. the answer may shock you.”

  
  


...

  
  


You chose to ignore his terrible joke and hope he didn’t see the tiny smile.

  
  


“We’re fine, you guys.” You put your arms down, observing the two much less physically intimidating men in front of you. “Are you two scared of thunderstorms, or something?”

  
  


“scared of-” Red sat down, indignant. “i ain’t _scared,_ i just don’t know what a thunderstorm _is!”_

  
  


Oh... Oh! That’s right! You smacked your forehead. You couldn’t believe you forgot that Skull and Red were _from the Underground!_ They’d never seen a storm before- let alone heard thunder or seen lightning. Of course they’d be scared of it!

  
  


“Don’t worry. It’s alright.” You said, coming over to them and sitting between them, trying to provide some physical comfort. You didn’t miss the way they both seemed to immediately lean closer to you. “It can’t touch us.”

  
  


Another thunderclap. Smaller, and less loud. This time Red grabbed your thigh just a tad too quickly in his sudden panic and Skull stopped breathing entirely, eyelight vanishing from sight.

  
  


“... Sans is right.” You said, giving Red’s hand a little squeeze and Skull’s femur a pat. “It’s just thunder.”

  
  


“still got no fuckin’ clue what thunder is.” Red muttered. You felt the sofa move as Sans sat on the arm, probably just wanting to get in on the ‘sitting with you’ action.

  
  


“... Thunder is caused _by_ lightning.” You said, rubbing the top of Red’s hand with your thumb in much the same way he liked to do to you. The surface was smooth, but covered in tiny nicks and ridges... rather alike feeling a really old pool ball that’d been banged up over the years. “... Hm. How to explain lightni...”

  
  


“lightning is a _huge_ electrostatic discharge between various points to temporarily equalise themselves.” Sans said, for you, looking out the window with an expression you didn’t see often on him. That calm, serene face of awe and wonder that he had when he thought deeply about scientific subjects he adored sharing with you. You found yourself going pink- he was so handsome sometimes, especially when he was being smart without being afraid of being smart. “can happen within clouds or between the clouds and the ground when static energy builds within them. it’s insanely hot plasma with millions of joules of energy that forms into long, bolt like structures- massive, lethal, awesomely powerful... but instantaneous and gone just like _that.”_

  
  


“... so... it’s...” Red sat back a bit. “just electrons rapidly moving between the spaces?”

  
  


Sans nodded, turning to face his counterpart. “a lot of human religion centres around or has beings who create or manipulate lightning. it’s quite ingrained in their culture, y’know? seeing it is a pretty aweing experience.”

  
  


“It’s like those crackles from Undyne’s spear, except stretching between the clouds all the way to the ground below. It’s really beautiful. Plus if you’re indoors it really can’t hurt you.” You pointed out the window. “It’s like... giant white splits that run through the whole sky. We’ll probably see some out this window soon.”

  
  


...

  
  


A few moments after you said that, through the literal sheet of rain on the window, lightning silently streaked across the sky, splitting the dark clouds like a pane of grey glass cracking on impact. It snaked instantaneously over the whole heavens in a flash... and then was gone, just like that.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Thunder.

  
  


It only took a few seconds. And it was a big one, since the lightning was so close to the building; erupting like a not-too-distant volcano. You could see why the guys were so afraid of it... to the untrained ear, it sounded almost as if the entire complex was going to come down on top of you.

  
  


You honestly couldn’t blame Red when he grabbed your leg tighter, or Skull when he all but curled around you, a scared puppy trying to hide under the carpet on the fourth of July.

But just like the lightning, the thunder too vanished, leaving behind only the shocked silence of your roommates and the rain still smashing against the poor abused window.

  
  


... You’d gotten far too used to the two of them being scary or acting like they were totally invincible to avoid losing face. The only time you could ever prise any weakness or genuine emotion out of them was completely in private. Seeing them so openly scared around _each other_ was _very much_ new.

  
  


... You sighed a little, still rubbing Red’s tense hand with your thumb, now also having an arm around Skull’s neck for some comfort. He’d wrapped his big arms around your middle and shoulders, face pressed on your shoulder... poor guy.

  
  


Maybe that was the next thing you needed to address between them. Yeah, you understood the whole deal with their instinctive hatred of each other, but you were all technically a family at this point, right? At least for as long as they were in this universe. A predominantly male family of large idiots who all wanted to date one person. Outside of heats it wasn’t healthy to constantly be putting a guard up, or trying to look like the bigger monster; especially considering everyone’s confessions were out in the open.

  
  


You glanced up at Red as surreptitiously as possible, observing the clear sweat dotting his forehead and the way his eyelights shook slightly. Skull, at least, was always open with you. He knew how he felt, what he wanted... the only part he struggled with was actually getting the words out.

  
  


Red, on the other hand, put up a front of knowing exactly what he wanted in order to come across as completely self-confident. And in some respects he _did_ know what he wanted because he’d happily made it known that he was interested in a fling of some kind when the others were holding back, and he’d _told_ you that he was terrified of the fact that he was getting attached. He couldn’t even listen to you say that you cared about him; he knew himself well enough to stop you before he panicked.

  
  


... Perhaps you just needed to talk to him again. But it could wait- for now, you needed to coax them through this godforsaken storm.

  
  


“I have an idea.” You said, softly (though it was still enough to make a hyper-focused Skull flinch very slightly against you). “Y’know that people say every 5 seconds between lightning and its respective thunder is roughly how many miles away the lightning struck?”

  
  


“... really?” Red asked, blinking.

  
  


“Mhm.” You hummed. “Next time we see the lightning, we can count, right? See how far it is.”

  
  


... It was a good call. Instead of nervous anticipation, the air seemed to settle with... well. _Regular_ anticipation. Definitely not excited, but not quite so negative.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


_Flash._ A smaller strike, further away in the clouds than the previous one; you relaxed a little knowing the thunder wouldn’t be so loud.

  
  


“One. Two.” You counted, gently. “Three. Four. Five. Si-”

  
  


_Crack._ Yes; definitely smaller. And Red didn’t even flinch! You smiled and squeezed his hand- he smiled back, looking something akin to relieved.

  
  


Another bout of lightning. You felt Skull’s hand shamelessly close around your own and he tucked his fingers between yours, totally enclosing the small appendage. You looked up- he was watching the window, his lips silently moving as he counted to himself.

  
  


... With both your hands stolen by various nervous skeletons you elected to just settle back into the cushions.

  
  


It was going to be a long evening, that was for sure.

  
  


But oddly enough, you really didn’t mind.

  
  



	25. Glitter gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shortlived but sparkly prank war- or a bonding exercise? You decide!

_love i s insane._

  
  


“...”

  
  


You didn’t know how long Skull had been standing there waiting to get your attention. You’d been sitting on the couch, reading a news article on your phone about the storm- apparently it’d picked up some steam after leaving the city and some people had been injured after a roof collapsed. As sturdy as the buildings in your city were, you were glad it’d passed during the night, turning due to high winds and _juuust_ narrowly missing completely covering where you’d lived.

  
  


... And... Yeah. During the night previous the guys, however brave they wanted to say they were now that they knew where the thunder came from, were clearly still jumping out of their nonexistent skin every time there was a noise outside... Skull, bless his nervous Soul, genuinely frightened himself with his own voice. So you ended up in a familiar gathering of mattresses on the floor as everyone decided that they suddenly wanted to sleep in whatever room you were sleeping in.

  
  


“Skull?” You turned off your phone and turned to look at him. “Do you... need something?”

  
  


“... need help.” He muttered, gesturing for you to follow him into the kitchen, then turning and going in, ducking very slightly under the door frame purely out of reflex.

  
  


... You tucked your phone into your pocket and walked in behind him.

  
  


...

  
  


Skull had totally occupied a corner of the kitchen counter. Bags of sugar and flour were strategically placed in amongst scales and open cookbooks, white sprinkles of said substances dotting the surface. A small bottle of vanilla extract, stirring equipment, trays and butter... and right in the middle of it all, a glass mixing bowl full of... _something._

  
  


“... Skull?” You asked, a little bewildered, as he put a small teaspoon into the mixture and scooped a tiny bit out, turning to you.

  
  


... His eyelight rolled to look at the floor, cheekbones lighting up a little.

  
  


“i’m... making... a cake. i’ve... always wanted to... i hope it’s ok i used your ingredients.”

  
  


You felt your heart practically burst out of your ribcage and start to weep as you literally brought your hands up to your chest, all but tearing up right in front of him as the cuteness and sincerity hit you like a 18-wheeler.

  
  


“... O-oh.” You swallowed back the choked up edge to your voice. “It’s fine. It’s okay. ... What do you need my help with?”

  
  


“... could you taste it?” He offered you the spoon. “i can’t... really taste anything anymore. i followed the instructions but... i can’t be sure...” He looked so nervous. “i-i’m not in heat, so there’s nothing weird about eatin it.”

  
  


... You were, admittedly, a little worried about eating something a guy who _couldn’t taste_ had made. But... you looked at the mixture. It seemed totally normal, regular consistency and without any weird chunks of anything. Besides- he was so genuine and _cute_ with the way he asked you that you felt like you had little to no choice in the matter.

  
  


“Sure.” You smiled, taking it. “I can be your taste tester.”

  
  


The sheer adorableness of the tiny grin he gave you was enough to make you immediately put the spoon in your mouth without care of possible consequence, closing your eyes to brace for potential bad flavour.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“Oh my God. It’s _delicious!”_ You opened your eyes. The mixture was sweet and had a strange warm tinge to it, like ginger, or pumpkin... or both. “Skull, what the hell? How did you make it taste so good?”

  
  


... His little grin spread into a big one, a small exhale coming out of his nasal cavity- the closest thing to a laugh you usually got from him.

  
  


“flavour... ‘s important.” He took the spoon and turned back to the bowl, turning the mixture with a wooden mixing tool that would’ve been large in your hands but in his looked like a small ice lolly stick. You came up beside him, leaning on the counter to get a look at the cookbook. “gross food... can be stomached if you season right.”

  
  


You supposed that if there was a shortage of food in his Underground, making gross or otherwise inedible food taste good would be an invaluable skill. “...But why was flavour important to you if you can’t taste?”

  
  


“pap.” He replied, simply, adding sprinkles of more flour to the mixture. “didn’t have the luxury of losing his sense of taste.”

  
  


“... So... you’re a master chef and seasoner?”

  
  


His response was to turn to you and give you a small, flattered smile. “heheh... s-something like that. ... could you get me greaseproof paper? please?”

  
  


“Sure!” You chirped, happy to be his cooking assistant for a few minutes. It sounded a lot more fun than just reading news articles on your phone on the couch and waiting for the laundry to dry.

  
  


Greaseproof paper, greaseproof paper... your eyes scanned the array of cupboards. You hardly ever baked, so... it was probably in one of the higher cabinets. You got up on your tiptoes and opened it up to-

  
  


_... Fwshhhh!_

  
  


You flinched wildly and screeched, and out of pure instinct when something unidentified fires at you, slammed the cupboard shut again so hard several glasses in the one adjacent rattled worryingly.

  
  


...

  
  


Both you and Skull stood there in disbelief. You blinked, letting go of the cabinet handle to take a step back... and looked down at your chest-

  
  


That was now absolutely _covered_ in whipped cream.

  
  


It was cold and sticky, _all_ over the front of your neck, on the underside of your chin, little flecks on your cheeks... some of the cold white froth was slipping down your ruined shirt, slowly almost mockingly.

  
  


...

  
  


“What the _fuck!?”_ You said, purely out of disbelief rather than frustration, turning to stare at Skull, who seemed just as shocked as you. As your brain caught up with what happened, you realised that... someone... someone had _tripped_ the goddamn cupboard!

  
  


If you hadn’t been standing on your tiptoes, it all would’ve gone _straight into your face!_

  
  


You turned back to the cabinet, not caring if you got sprayed again seeing as you were already _soiled._ You tore it open and yanked the spraying can of cream away, spluttering and shutting your eyes, breaking some kind of rope and plastic contraption that pulled tight on the can’s nozzle when the cupboard door was open.

  
  


... Just at that moment, Red came into the kitchen.

  
  


You looked at him, feeling rather like a confused, mortified, badly decorated cake.

  
  


...

  
  


He burst into uncontrollable laughter.

  
  


“Red!” You shrieked.

  
  


“o-ohmygod!” He hooted, actually bending over a bit to brace his nonexistent stomach. “that was... that was meant for blue, i-i’m sorry!”

  
  


“... It was you! You _dick!”_ Even as you were yelling at him and felt like you _should_ be more pissed off than you were, his wonderful laugh was very infectious, and your own chest was bouncing a bit. ... I mean... you needed a shower anyway. You would’ve been slightly more mad if he’d got you _after_ you’d washed.

  
  


He wiped a tear and straightened up, coming over to you to observe the damage and chuckle to himself a bit more.

  
  


“well, skull seems to be enjoying the sight, ey?” Red snickered, looking over to your largest friend. You turned a little too to see what on Earth Red was talking about- just to catch Skull’s eyelight snapping back to the bowl of mixture, his alabaster cheekbones turning a fuzzy royal blue.

  
  


... You wiped off a bit of cream that was getting dangerously close to breaching the neckline of your shirt and flicked it at him, landing him on the nose. Now that the actual event had already passed you were starting to see more of the humour in it, your shoulders starting to unwind. It... it was, admittedly, a pretty well put-together prank. _“Great._ Now I need to clean up.”

  
  


“... i mean...” He grinned an almost _evil_ grin at you, tongue poking out of his mouth suggestively. “if it’s botherin’ ya _that_ much i can help ya get it off...”

  
  


You swatted at him, embarrassed, but he dodged easily and with a smug-as-hell face.

  
  


“I’ll let the shower handle that, thanks.” You grumbled, red-faced, moving past him and ignoring the two little pats he placed firmly on your butt as you went by.

  
  


Luckily for you, whipped cream was very easy to remove. The warm water stream made quick work of the sticky stuff, and before long you were clean and out, _really_ hoping you didn’t get trapped again later by something else Red had done.

  
  


... But as you were drying off your hair, you looked in the mirror... and had a little idea. You remembered something you had.

  
  


It didn’t matter if Red didn’t _mean_ the prank for you. You still had to deal with the consequences of his dumbassery and get washed. So...

  
  


... A little revenge wouldn’t hurt, would it? Just one prank back. Something really simple, something effective... something funny.

  
  


You got dressed and headed to your room, digging through some old boxes in the back of your wardrobe, removing various trinkets and items that hadn’t seen sunlight in a long while but you really didn’t want to get rid of, until, eventually...

  
  


... You found the old whoopee cushion Sans had given you one April Fool’s. It was a little off colour but still very much intact for a ‘jumbo’ cushion of it’s calibre- aka, just a _liiiittle_ larger in circumference than your typical bog-standard cushion. You chuckled to yourself, folding it and placing it in your pocket.

  
  


_Perfect._

  
  


You all but skipped to the living room, happy to find no one on the couch. If there was one thing you’d learnt during your time in the apartment with several large idiots who all secretly wanted to smooch you, it was that as soon as you sat down, at _least_ one of them would mysteriously drift into the room and sit with you, or ask with your help with something, or just be in the general vicinity... like an aloof cat pretending it didn’t follow you into a room when it _clearly_ just wants to be around you.

  
  


So... you sat, quickly blew up the toy (a small bubble of childlike glee in your chest), and placed it under the couch cushion next to you, taking extra special care not to squish it there and then by accident. You folded your hands in your lap all-too-innocently and waited.

  
  


...

  
  


And, lo and behold, Red walked in. It was _almost_ comical how right you were about how things would happen.

  
  


What was _absolutely_ comical was the way he sat heavily on the couch, and a muffled, barely audible fart fluttered pathetically before dying out immediately.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


And you both cracked up uncontrollably for the second time.

  
  


“wh... what the hell was...?” He shifted a bit and lifted up the side of the mass of soft material, removing the pancake flat whoopee cushion and holding it up like a soiled napkin. “are you _serious?”_

  
  


“I-I thought it was going to be louder!” You wheezed, holding your abdomen, trying to calm down. Somehow, the patheticness of the fart was _leagues_ funnier than a full one.

  
  


“fuckin’ hell...” he snorted. “yer a fella after my own heart, y’know?”

  
  


“Well.” You sat back, finally able to breathe better. “That was my rather _feeble_ revenge. But at least the pranking can be over now.”

  
  


“oh, sweetheart, it’s definitely not over.” He gave you a grin that both made your heart skip, and slightly worried you. “it’s _on.”_

  
  


“... A... prank war?” You inferred, delicately.

  
  


“you could call it that.”

  
  


... You couldn’t deny that the idea definitely sounded fun. Already, you knew that Sans and Red would team up against you; they may both have feelings for you and be competing for your affection, but... you also knew that Sans turned into a different skeleton when pranks were involved. If Red was anything similar (which he definitely was considering they were the _same person)_ to your roommate then it would be pure conjoined chaos.

  
  


“... Nothing messy.” You pushed his shoulder gently, but notably didn’t say no. “I don’t want to have to clean up again.”

  
  


He pinched your cheek just as gently and gave it a slight wiggle, before getting up. “i ain’t makin’ any promises, sweetheart. i like seein’ ya all messy.”

  
  


“You’re gross.”

  
  


“you love it.” He commented, disappearing into thin air.

  
  


...

  
  


You didn’t see Sans _or_ Red for the rest of the morning.

  
  


With every step you took, every door you passed under, every cabinet or can or box you opened, your suspicion rose. It was like, ironically, waiting for inevitable thunder to clap. In fact, you were so ridiculously on guard that when you felt a hand on your shoulder as you hung the laundry on the rack, you yelped loudly and jumped out of your skin, throwing the pair of jeans you were unfolding directly into the face of your attacker.

  
  


... You and Skull both paused.

  
  


...

  
  


“S-sorry.” You took them off of him, seeing as he wasn’t making any noticeable movements to remove them. “Bit jumpy. You... need anything?”

  
  


“... they... want me in on it.” He mumbled.

  
  


“... In on what?” You asked, leaning to the side a bit to hopefully draw his eye contact to you.

  
  


“sans and red. they’re teaming up. to prank you.” That same adorable flush that you’d seen this morning covered his cheekbones, and he scratched the side of his face with the ends of his massive clawed hands, clearly a little nervous. “i’m... defecting.”

  
  


...

  
  


_Awwwwwwwe._

  
  


You put a hand to your chest again to contain the love. He... probably found it hard to keep up with the pranks, didn’t he? If Guitar Hero was hard enough for him, creating and following along with the kinds of intricate pranks you expected from the other two would be more than a challenge.

  
  


“I’ll protect you from the pranks, Skull.” You gave him a hug, much happier than you should be. “You can help me out with my revenge, too!”

  
  


“... revenge?” He asked, even as his hands drifted to rest on your back.

  
  


“Course!” You made a face probably not too dissimilar from ‘:3’. “Now that I know they’re a coalition for sure, I have to fight back with something far worse than my original plan.”

  
  


... He chuckled, gently, clearing enjoying this hidden evil part of yourself he hadn’t ever been able to see before.

  
  


“... what’re you planning, then?” He asked.

  
  


...

  
  


... You went from ‘:3’ to ‘>:3’.

  
  


_“_ _**Glitter.”** _

  
  


\---

  
  


Glitter was, to you, by _far_ the most superior medium with which to prank a skeleton.

  
  


The danger of glitter bombing a human was that it could get in their nose, or in their ears, or worse, in their _eyes..._ it could irritate their skin or get in their throat. It was far more dangerous than given credit for. Glitter was really something you had to reserve for only your worst enemies.

  
  


But skeletons?

  
  


No eyes. No skin. No ears, no nose... not _one_ medical danger! The worst glitter could do was get in between the bone joints and cause mild discomfort for some, similar to having sand between your toes and fingers. The only remaining problem was that it was a bitch to get out of carpets or furniture, eagerly sticking to fucking _everything_ in its thousands- but you absolutely didn’t mind everything being sparkly for a little while.

  
  


Besides, all it took for you to begin your spree was a quick trip to the store with Skull to clear it of its glitter stock. Inexpensive and easy to make- whatever the boys were cooking up would take double the time glitter took.

  
  


... But that wasn’t to say it wasn’t difficult to think of glitter pranks that would actually work on the guys. Most of the easily-found internet pranks involved putting glitter in a hairbrush, or in shampoo, or shower gel, or a hairdryer...

  
  


_All_ things that they didn’t even use.

  
  


So, naturally, you had to get creative.

  
  


Inspired by Red’s whipped cream prank, you attached a small cup of glitter to the door of the cupboard by a string so whoever opened it would have it spilled all over themselves. You sprinkled some along the top of the ceiling fan so if anyone turned it on, it would shower them in all the sparkles possible. You dusted it along shelves too high for you normally so if any of them grabbed something it would tip the fairy dust all down their arm (and hopefully on their head).

  
  


And, of course, speaking of those heights you couldn’t normally reach- Skull was proving himself absolutely invaluable to your effort to bring forth a reign of shimmering terror. Namely- with Skull’s sheer tallness, a rickety stepladder to reach high places wasn’t necessary; all he had to do was hold you with one arm under your butt to lift you up high enough for you to enact your devious plans. Ceiling fan, shelves... all inaccessible without him.

  
  


Finally, once you felt like you’d successfully booby trapped the whole apartment, you and Skull headed back to the living room to chill and wait for the pranks to start. You even pushed the door open with a small stick first before going in to make sure no one had trapped _that._

  
  


...

  
  


Nothing.

  
  


But, in a false sense of security, you didn’t check the kitchen door. Your hand made contact with the wood, and you pushe-

  
  


Skull caught a hold of the back of your shirt and yanked you backwards so hard you were certain the fabric almost tore. You yelped and stumbled over your own feet just as a loud clatter and a _SPLASH!_ echoed in a spot just ahead.

  
  


...

  
  


“aw, what?” Sans called out, suddenly seated on the couch. You were almost shocked to hear his voice after having not seen him for almost a whole day. “no fair!”

  
  


... Skull grumbled something under his breath and looked down at you... immediately flushing again when he saw the sparkley-eyed look you were giving him.

  
  


“S... Skuuulll!!” You couldn’t help it- you hugged him again, overjoyed, your arms too small to reach all the way around his giant chest. Cold water bucket pranks were your _least favourite of all tim_ e and without him, you... you would’ve been a gonner, for certain. “You saved me! Oh my God you’re my hero?”

  
  


... He smiled... embarrassed, but clearly loving the attention.

  
  


“... was just instinct.”

  
  


\---

  
  


You completely misjudged the prank dynamic between you and Skull. You, were not, in fact, the one protecting him from pranks.

  
  


Because he protected you from _every single one._

  
  


Through the whole day, no matter how creative and well hidden, no matter what it was made of or how it worked... Skull saved you from every prank in the hosue. He would pull you away from door traps, stop you and lift up cushions to reveal whoopee cushions or stink bombs, take ketchup bottles and screw the lid back on properly (it’d been loose, probably so that you’d spill it all over your food), grab your hairbrush before you used it and remove the silly string from the bristles...

  
  


You were untouchable. And _very_ smug. Especially as your glitter pranks proved effective _and_ funny as the amount of sparkles on Red and Sans’s upper body increased dramatically as time went on, forming a shining halo around both of them. There was nothing quite like hearing a shout of surprise from the next room over, only to see Sans stumble in seconds later looking like he jumped right out of a bad YouTube crafting video.

  
  


“kiddo i swear to god, i’m gonna get you for this-”

  
  


“No you won’t.” You teased, holding Skull’s hand and winking.

  
  


It was only once Red semi-sarcastically pleaded for a truce, and Sans admitted you and Skull the ‘ultimate superior pranksters’, that you finally stopped putting glitter on the various reachable surfaces around the house and you all finally drew a close to the... _very_ short-lived prank war.

  
  


Well.

  
  


More like sparkly prank massacre.

  
  


“s’all hopeless,” Red said, dramatically, sitting heavily on the couch next to you and looping a glimmering arm around your shoulders. You could _feel_ Skull glaring daggers into him from your other side, immensely suspicious of another prank. “ain’t fun if we aren’t gettin’ you too. doesn’t seem like there was really a point to all of that.”

  
  


“Oh, but there _was_ a point.” You cooed, shuffling so that your head was in Skull’s lap and your feet were in Red’s. Immediately, large, grateful hands began to comb through your hair and Red folded his arms to rest his chin on your raised knees.

  
  


“and what would that be?” He cooed right back at you. You really liked this- when Red and Skull were both happy and completely calm... sometimes, you just wanted them all to be chill, and have time to relax like this.

  
  


You shut your eyes, enjoying the feeling of Skull’s phalanges on your scalp. “We got to spend time trying to mess with each other. That’s the fun part.”

  
  


“well, i dunno if _fun_ is the right word.” He said, sarcastically, making you giggle again, as he flicked a bit of glitter that’d landed on your leg. “i definitely ain’t helping you clean up the pixie dust tomorrow- i’m a victim, here.”

  
  


“Your fault for losing.”

  
  


“you only won because of skull’s apparent prank 6th sense.”

  
  


“Yep.” You agreed, easily. You could _feel_ Skull smile.

  
  


After a few minutes of lounging happily across their laps like a large cat, feeling really rather loved and appreciated, you caught sight of the clock and realised it was past time for you to get some goddamn _sleep,_ so you regretfully removed yourself from between the two of them, legs protesting from literally not having longer than a few minutes to sit down today.

  
  


“... I’m heading to bed.” You sighed. “I’ll start cleaning the glitter in the morning, so just put any infested clothing in the laundry and I’ll do it later.”

  
  


“gimme a holler when you do. i’ll help out.” Red said, touch on your leg definitely lingering a moment too long as you got up... as if he didn’t want you to go.

  
  


... But anyway. You leant over, and planted a big goodnight kiss on Skull’s cheekbone. He immediately shut his socket and made a small, deep, happy trill sound, reciprocating with a little nuzzle to your own cheek that made you giggle a bit. The happiness radiating off him was palpable, and it just...

  
  


... It made you smile. You felt so glad that you could do something with him today that made him so joyful and wound down.

  
  


“Night, you two.” You said, as you left.

  
  


... But just as you went around the side of the sofa, you leant down and gave Red a peck on the cranium, catching him off guard long enough to dash off, out of the living room, mindful of the glitter sticking to the soles of your feet.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“i love them.” Skull said, once you were out of earshot. His eyelight was huge and fuzzy, tone collected and lucid. “so much.”

  
  


“i know, buddy.” Red replied, turning in his seat so that he was leaning his back against Skull’s side. Skull relaxed into his own seat, silently enjoying more physical contact from someone he trusted.

  
  


“... do you love them?” Skull asked, looking at his friend out of the corner of his socket.

  
  


...

  
  


Red sighed, but couldn’t stop the tiny smile pulling at his mouth, the spot where your lips touched his head still warm.

  
  


“...hehe. probably.”

  
  


\---

  
  


“kiddo?”

  
  


You sighed, rolling your eyes but grinning nonetheless, hand literally _on_ your bedroom door handle.“You should probably stop with the ‘kiddo’ at this point, Sans. Red’s got you beat with ‘sweetheart’.”

  
  


You turned around, assuming he wanted to say goodnight. He was standing right behind you- looking... excited?

  
  


“can’t help it. my go-to endearing term.” He was all... but bouncing on the balls of his feet. Cheekbones azure, eyelights brighter than Sirius twice over, phalanges completely unable to stay still.

  
  


... You raised a brow. “... What’s got you all exci-”

  
  


Before you could finish, his hands were cupping either side of your face, and he was so close you could see every mark on his cheeks and around his sockets, every fleck of glitter still stuck resiliently to the bone.

  
  


You barely had a moment to process, your eyes widening a little. He pressed his lips to yours- warm, gentle, _ecstatic_ with joy...

  
  


... And then he parted, just like that. The whole experience couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds.

  
  


He beamed at you, chirped out a quick “goodnight!” and vanished.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“G... goodnight.”

  
  


...

  
  


_Holy shit!??!??!?!??!?!_

  
  


\---

  
  


...

  
  


03:59

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** hey

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** would you like to come over to my place tomorrow?

  
  
  


...

  
  
  
 **\- hit or miss:** there’s something _very_ important i’d like to talk to you about.


	26. Sevoflurane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hit invites you over for a tour.

_i'm not willing to live a life without them._

  
  


You didn’t notice Hit had texted you at 4am the previous night until you woke up in a semi-bleary haze early the next morning to someone _else’s_ texts. Trist, to be precise... you never thought you’d hear from that asshole again. You didn’t even bother to read it- something pathetic with him asking to talk to you or something now that it had ‘been a while and you’d hopefully calmed down’- instead you blocked the number, seeing as you had apparently forgotten to do so after you’d initially barred him from your life.

  
  


And when you did that, you noted the texts from Hit.

  
  


03:59

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** hey

 **\- hit or miss:** would you like to come over to my place tomorrow?

 **\- hit or miss:** there’s something _very_ important i’d like to talk to you about

  
  


You wondered, with a slight hint of worry, what could be so important that he needed to text you at 4 in the morning. You narrowed your eyes a tad and texted back.

  
  


06:01

  
  


**\- You:** is everything okay?

  
  


You weren’t expecting a reply. Which made his almost _instant_ reply even more worrying to you.

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** everything’s great. :)

  
  


**\- You:** you texted me at 4 in the morning. Did you even sleep?

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** awe, are you worrying about me? :P

  
  


**\- You:** Well..... I mean, a little bit, yeah!

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** as flattering as it is that you’re worried for me, you don’t need to get yourself worked up, babydoll <3

 **\- hit or miss:** course i slept. i just needed to ask you before i forgot, and that happened to be late at night when i woke up for seemingly no reason.

  
  


... Okay. Phew. You relaxed a little- you could relate to that. Waking up at some ridiculous time and not being able to get back to sleep because you remembered a _very_ important thing you had to do wasn’t too out of the ordinary.

  
  


**\- You:** Well, it’s good you slept. Even beautiful people like you need sleep

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** on the subject of beautiful people needing sleep- what about you? what has you up at this hour?

  
  


You flushed.

  
  


**\- You:** Just some jerk I forgot to block thinking it’s okay to text me.

 **-You:** But I have work today anyway, my alarm is going to go off in a few minutes.

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** well, if it’s alright with you, you could come over to my place after your work?

  
  


**\- You:** Sure! I could give you the address. Any particular reason why?

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** i’d just like to hang out with you, i haven’t seen you since i spectacularly embarrassed myself at our dinner.

 **\- hit or miss:** and i’d very much like you to see my garden. :) i think you’d enjoy the flowers.

  
  


He sent a little emoji of a flower- a little pink cherry blossom. It made you smile.

  
  


**\- You:** Awe, Hit. You didn’t embarrass yourself.

 **\- You:** And I’d love to see the garden. It sounds wonderful

  
  


**\- hit or miss:** well, that’s perfect then. what time does your workday end?

  
  


\---

  
  


You waited excitedly outside your work, back against the wall, rocking on the balls of your feet. Seeing Hit was _always_ fun- you just hoped he didn’t mind your boring work clothes.

  
  


... You tugged, a little self-consciously, on the corner of your skirt. You didn’t know what it was, but... something made you want to be pretty around Hit. It wasn’t even like you felt like he expected anything from you- no matter what you wore, he always seemed to think you looked wonderful. But despite all that you always found yourself fiddling with your hair, or checking your face in your selfie camera, or wishing you’d brought some more flattering shoes, or thinking about getting out that makeup you never used... you wanted him to like what he saw.

  
  


The more you thought about it, the more you realised... you never felt that way with Skull and Sans, but you’d _absolutely_ felt it with Red before. Just... more downplayed. Perhaps it was because Hit and Red were so similar...? Red had always been open about wanting you sexually, and Hit made it clear he was after you. Sans and Skull... they were softer, almost? Much less outwardly physically attracted, much more on the sweet, nervous, romantic end of the spectrum.

  
  


_... Perhaps,_ you thought to yourself, _it’s a... confidence thing? Red and Hit are both so openly interested. And something about them feels dangerous... Is that what I’m reacting to? Their confidence and interest makes me want to put myself out there...?_

  
  


“someone looks deep in thought.”

  
  


You nearly jumped out of your socks at the sound of Hit’s devil-deep voice, putting a hand to your chest and letting out a tiny, more-out-of-shock-than-joy laugh. Yet again he was proving he could look hot in absolutely anything; plain black pants and a red shirt that was just one or two shades lighter than his eyelights. You also noticed he had something new- a very expensive looking golden watch on his left wrist.

  
  


You didn’t hesitate to put your arm through his, smiling. “You’re early.”

  
  


“so are you.” He purred. “early finish?”

  
  


“No more appointments. No point staying late.” You squeezed his arm. “Besides- my next appointment is you.”

  
  


That made him chuckle. The two of you stepped into the void for a few milliseconds, that familiar freezing emptiness, before arriving in a house.

  
  


...

  
  


A huge house.

  
  


The room you were in now- which seemed like the living room- was probably bigger than the floor plan of your entire apartment. The walls were creamy colour and the floor was a sparkly white marble, decorated with a sprawling red carpet; a high ceiling and large, long windows meant the whole place was flooded with a wonderful natural light. From what you could see in just those first moments there was a stairway with fancy curly metal bannisters in the corner of the room leading down into some kind of basement, a huge TV, three _very_ comfortable looking red couches, a coffee table with a delicate flower vase in the middle, and some pretty ocean view paintings high on the un-windowed parts of the wall.

  
  


Your breath was taken for a moment. This was like the kind of house you’d see a classically rich person living in in a movie. The kind of house you could only _dream_ of staying in.

  
  


“would you like a tour?” He asked, free hand sneaking to your hip, apparently enjoying your expression of amazement.

  
  


You barely managed to wheeze out a little “Yes please.”

  
  


“the basement is under renovations at the moment, so we can’t go in.” He said, nonchalantly, leading you away from the living room and into what seemed to be the main entrance hall, or something. Again- much bigger than your whole apartment. You could see a large main door on your right, several rooms in front of you, and on your right a huge staircase seemingly waiting for someone to dash down it and forget their glass slipper. A classic elegant chandelier drew your eyes upwards... that brilliant piece of sparkling elegance alone would probably cost more than your apartment. “i’m planning on giving this place to sam, a friend of mine, once i’m done using it.”

  
  


“... Sam?” You asked, getting your brain back together. “... Isn’t he the guy that taught you how to talk like a present day person?”

  
  


... Hit blinked. “... yeah. he is. ... i’m surprised you remember that.”

  
  


“... Me too, actually.” You giggled. “Can I see the upstairs before we go in the garden?”

  
  


“sure. there’s too many bedrooms to count, so it’ll just be a short lookaround.” He seemed pretty happy that you wanted to see more, gently squeezing your hip and taking you up the giant staircase. You could imagine getting all the way to the bottom and then realising you forgot your phone in your bedroom, or something.

  
  


“... Your house is amazing, by the way.” You said, as the two of you entered a wide, long, brightly-lit hallway lined with doors. Some were half open, some were shut tight, all were beautiful and ornate.

  
  


He relaxed into a grin that made your heart jump a bit. “you’ve only technically seen two rooms, toots.”

  
  


“...Still bigger than my entire apartment.” You muttered.

  
  


“heheh... it’s a nice place, i’ll admit it.” He looked down the corridor, a sigh escaping his broad chest.

  
  


... His expression shifted... like he wasn’t looking at what he saw.

  
  


“... but it just ain’t home, y’know? ... the atmosphere, the buildings, the people, the way everyone talks... things that i’m supposed to do an’ know... it just... it always feels... like i don’t belong in this place...”

  
  


...

  
  


He looked back to you, eyelights focusing. His hand left your hip- instead, he turned to you, and yet again held both your hands in his own.

  
  


“... but when i’m with you, i feel like i could belong anywhere.”

  
  


...

  
  


It was so completely out of the blue that you didn’t know how to reply. You stared at him. ... Just seconds ago the two of you had been joking about his house... you opened your mouth, trying to force something out. “H-Hit, I-”

  
  


“please.” He continued, squeezing your hands, sockets crinkling in the corners, even leaning down a fraction to be closer to your eye level. _“please_ come with me. without you this timeline will just freeze- nothin’ll happen. no one would even know you left. i _know_ you’d like it back home with me- monsters surfaced so it ain’t nothin’ like the past you know about. every day would be flowers and huge houses and fancy dinners at places you’ve never seen before, i’d make you the happiest fuckin’ doll in the whole world. i could give you anything you wanted. _please.”_

  
  


...

  
  


“... Hit, I...” You felt sick to your stomach with pity as you looked up at his desperate face. “I-I’m so sorry, you...”

  
  


...

  
  


“s’them, isn’t it?”

  
  


You blinked. His tone had changed in an instant- it was low, and deathly soft, but... monotone. His eyelights had lost the fuzzy warmth and the crinkles in the corners of his sockets were gone.

  
  


“the others. red and skull and blue.”

  
  


... You tried to move back, but he closed the distance with a single, slow step forward, refusing to let you get away.

  
  


“you’d never willingly leave them behind.” His sockets narrowed. “you love them, don’t you?”

  
  


“... Y..yes.” You said, small.

  
  


...

  
  


... It occurred to you as you looked into his eyelights, in a slow, dawning moment of realisation... you....

  
  


...

  
  


... You forgot to tell him your job address. ... You never told him where you worked.

  
  


You just told him when to pick you up.

  
  


... And he never asked for it.

  
  


...

  
  


_H... how did he know where..._

  
  


...

  
  


His face scared you. Relaxed sockets, minuscule eyelights... _no smile at all._ He was looking at you like you were a playmate who had just threatened to take away his favourite toy.

  
  


But at the same time... the favourite toy was you.

  
  


“... s’exactly what i thought you’d say.”

  
  


...

  
  


... Your gut screamed to _**run.**_

  
  


Your breath escaped your chest like someone had punched you in the gut and you ripped your hands out of his, turning on your heels, trying to run for the stairs as fast as you could- but you weren’t fast enough. The second you had turned from him, you were yanked back by your shoulder, a thick, solid arm easily winding around you and forcing you into a headlock, your neck neatly fitting into the crook of his elbow.

  
  


Sheer panic hit every corner of your body as your mind instantaneously supplied the thousands of things Hit could do to you like this. Your hands came up to smack at his arm and you parted your lips to scream-

  
  


His free hand clamped over your mouth. But he was holding something over your mouth and nose, clothlike in texture, and ever-so-slightly damp- the overpowering smell of strong, sweet lemons and wood varnish invaded your nostrils and throat and immediately you began to fight harder, trying to throw your whole body and claw at the arm holding you, or rip his hand away from your face, muffled screaming the only sound you could make.

  
  


_LET GO!_

  
  


... But he was just too strong. Your desperate movements, with all the strength you could possibly muster, all the panicked adrenaline your body had to offer... it barely even seemed to make him sway. It was like trying to rip and punch at a solid stone statue.

  
  


“shh.” He tightened his headlock just a little, enough so that you couldn’t move your face anymore. You still cried out, mostly in fear now... if he squeezed even the tiniest fraction harder he could crush your windpipe. You flailed your legs, clawing, scratching so hard against his bones your felt one of your nails catch and bend painfully. “sevoflurane. s’way less toxic than chloroform, and apparently it smells like lemons. much better alternative... but you still don’t want it up in yer business for too long.”

  
  


You... you couldn’t believe he was doing this. H-he was knocking you out! Was he going to _kill_ you for rejecting him!? How could you have trusted him for _so long?!_

  
  


You pursed your lips together as hard as you could, holding your breath, squeezing your eyes shut tight. You wanted to yell, you wanted to scream louder, you wanted to punch and kick and run; but you knew the terrifying strength he was using to hold you wasn’t even a _fraction_ of what he could really do. If he saw fit, he could snap your neck here and now.

  
  


It was so much more scary than being held around the neck by Skull- at least you trusted him. At least he wasn’t actively trying to drug you.

  
  


Hit sighed a long-suffering sigh as you continued to fight pointlessly in his hold. “you won’t _believe_ the shit i went through to get the correct dosage for you and make sure it wouldn’t make ya sick. when i found out how goddamn complicated it was i considered just usin’ a gun to scare you, but... heh. you’d call that bluff, wouldn’t you? yer a fearless little bearcat.”

  
  


The warmth in his tone was a sharp contrast to what he was trying to do to you. It terrified you.

  
  


_How long has he been planning this?!_ You thought, panicked. You didn’t know what a bearcat was and you definitely didn’t feel very fucking ‘fearless’ right now!

  
  


You couldn’t hold your breath longer than he could hold you still. You could feel it- as the seconds slipped by and the sickly sweet gas invaded your system, your limbs got heavy and lax, your lungs felt hot and weak, it got harder and harder to fight him, your vision started to tilt and swim and go fuzzy in the corners. Unpleasant dizzy waves started to rock your mind, cohesive thought becoming increasingly difficult.

  
  


And the panic... God, the _panic._ Despite the sevoflurane lulling everything else, from your eyes to your now-shaking legs, the panic remained- like someone was pressing hard on your chest, making your breathing desperate and almost impossible. You could feel hot tears gather and spill down your face; though whether it was from the sevoflurane or from the terror, you didn’t know.

  
  


“shhh...” He purred. “... heh... you’re so small. s’like holding a struggling kitten.”

  
  


Your legs started to give. It felt like you had no bones... like you were trying to hold a far-too heavy body up on the weak, loose, broken joints of a doll. But as your legs went limp, Hit lowered himself to sit on the ground slowly, going down with you- your last pieces of consciousness told you he was probably doing so to stop you choking in his grip.

  
  


Your arms and hands weren’t responding to your desperate hitting and clawing attempts anymore. All they could do was grip Hit’s thick radius and ulna, as if that would make him let go.

  
  


“sorry toots.” He said, voice soft and distant. “i ain’t about to let this one chance to have you slide.”

  
  


As the blurry edges of your vision finally closed in on you entirely... all you could do was desperately hope, with all your Soul, that one of the guys realised you were missing before it was too late.

  
  


\---

  
  


...

  
  


Skull immediately felt like something was horribly wrong.

  
  


He looked up at the clock, and something inside him stirred. The hands of the clock didn’t seem to tell him anything was off- it was only two minutes past the time you usually came home. But something, _something..._ his Soul seemed to turn inside out, his nonexistent stomach dropping into a pit as the seconds hand ticked by ever-so-slowly.

  
  


_Tick... Tick... Tick..._

  
  


His anxiety started to mount, eyelight squeezing smaller the longer he sat still. It wasn’t even as if you’d never been late before- sometimes you came in a few minutes past. Sometimes you came back a full hour too late. Sometimes you texted to say you wouldn’t be back until much much later!

  
  


...

  
  


_s-so why do i feel so... restless?_

  
  


“... you okay there, buddy?” Red asked, concerned, glancing up at Skull, sandwiched on the couch between the other two. The big guy was sweating lightly, looking disturbed, eyelight not leaving the clock... his fingers bounced in his lap, more so than his usual tic.

  
  


Red’s comment made Sans blink and also look up at Skull to see what Red was talking about. Sans’s brow slowly creased, eyelights shrinking into tiny white pricks.

  
  


“... they're not back.” Skull mumbled, a sickly feeling in his chest. “... i-i don’t...”

  
  


“... skull...” Sans said, sitting up.

  
  


... Skull tore his gaze from the clock. The two of them locked eyelights.

  
  


“... did you feel it too?” He asked, tone as if he already knew, but _really_ didn’t want to. “in your soul?”

  
  


... Skull nodded.

  
  


Red sat up too, grin and happy facade completely gone in a matter of seconds. “that ... tiny feelin’ of panic? you guys felt that?”

  
  


“not tiny.” Skull said, putting a hand over his chest, over his Soul, his eyelight shrinking faster. “not tiny at all.”

  
  


...

  
  


Red seemed to take a few seconds, gears turning in his mind, line of sight on the carpet in front of him.

  
  


...

  
  


He turned to Sans. His words came out in a strong, controlled tone, despite the clear panic written everywhere on his body but his face. “did they tell either of you where they were going tonight?”

  
  


... Sans’s eyelights extinguished entirely.

  
  


“... they said they told you two.”


	27. Tyger Tyger, burning bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In what distant deep or skies
> 
> Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
> 
> On what wings dare he aspire?
> 
> What the hand dare seize the fire?

_The tiger would not usually have concerned himself with a bunny so small. But their silky little ears, their soft coat, their bright, bright eyes... he flashed his teeth when they ran from him into a corner, he purred as they thumped her foot in an attempt to scare him away, he tore open the undergrowth they tried to hide in, squealing for help. Did he want to keep them, or did he want to eat them? He didn’t know._

  
  


_But either way, they belonged to him._

  
  


“any luck?”

  
  


Skull shook his head, approaching Sans, who was positioned against the wall outside your workplace, the streetlamp highlighting the anxious shadows on his face. His controlled panic was palpable in the air; only helped further by Skull’s tiny eyelight and constant fidgeting.

  
  


It was dark, and as quiet as a city at night could get, the clouds obscuring the moon and turning the sky into an empty, void-like ocean of black. They’d been searching for some time... just under an hour of teleporting between all the areas in the city you could possibly have gone. They’d all been looking in almost complete silence- each of them anxiously hoping this was all some big misunderstanding and they’d just worked themselves into a frenzy for no reason, and they’d find you sitting on a park bench or in a club, wondering why they’d followed you and why they looked so panicked.

  
  


... But no. No sign of you anywhere. When they came to where you worked Skull had faintly picked up your smell- Red and Sans were both too relieved that Skull could still track you to find it creepy or unnerving that he could pinpoint your scent so easily in the mesh of city smells they found impossible to unpick.

  
  


“their trail stops here.” Skull said, voice soft, but anything but calm. “it’s like they never left the outside of the building. they came out, waited in one place for a bit... then nothing.”

  
  


“no sign that they could’ve been picked up by someone in a car?” Sans pressed. “or dragged away?”

  
  


“they stopped here.” Skull pointed to a spot almost against the wall. “nowhere near the road. and if they got dragged there’d be some sign. shoe scuff marks, someone else’s adrenaline... but they just...” His eyelight contracted further. “... vanished.”

  
  


The inside lights were off and the doors locked, leaving a strange, empty and unwelcoming feeling- Red appeared out of thin air just beside the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets and scowl deep, a cigarette burning between his teeth... a habit he’d dropped without realising after meeting you.

  
  


“they ain’t inside.” He said, voice gruff and tense, joining the other two. “ain’t no sign of struggle neither. everythin’s all put away neat and shit.”

  
  


“how long ago were they here, skull?” Sans asked. He silently mused to himself that they always seemed to work together brilliantly whenever the possibility of you being taken away from them was too close for comfort.

  
  


“hour, maybe less.” He said, staring at the ground.

  
  


“are you sure it’s them?”

  
  


Skull’s line of sight snapped over to his smaller counterpart, face instantly twisting into a borderline _violently_ angry glare. “you think i don’t fucking know their sce-”

  
  


Red settled a hand on Skull’s shoulder. ... Skull’s jaw snapped shut after a momentary pause, eyelight dropping back down to the floor.

  
  


“he didn’t mean it like that.” Red said, calm facade betrayed by the smoke escaping between his teeth and the brightly glowing, quickly disappearing end of the cigarette. “we’re all nervous and angry but we can’t waste time bickerin’, aight?”

  
  


Sans nodded. “we need to look in-”

  
  


...

  
  


His phone buzzed in his pocket.

  
  


... Red and Skull both looked at him.

  
  


He removed the device from his pocket.

  
  


...

  
  


It was from you. One word.

  
  


**\- future bae <3:** help

  
  


...

  
  


The wave of raw magic that exploded out of them simultaneously overwhelmed and burst every light bulb in a four block radius, plunging the whole street into darkness.

  
  


\---

  
  


...

  
  


You woke up.

  
  


Your body felt shivery and weak despite not being cold at all and your stomach was _not_ pleased with whatever events it had recently undergone. You felt like you could hurl at any second... Your head pounded uncomfortably, your lungs felt tingly and hot, and you couldn’t recall _anything_ of the night previous.

  
  


You groaned, pulling the bed sheets over your head and pressing your face harder into the pillow. What the hell _happened...?_ It was like a hangover, but... _wrong._

  
  


...

  
  


You took a small breath. This... didn’t smell like your bed. It was a very certain smell that your sleepy, recovering brain couldn’t pin on anything. And it didn’t _feel_ like your bed either- it was softer, much _much_ softer, the sheets felt like they were freshly washed... and God they were _heavy._ Whoever used this bed must’ve been... twice your size or something.

  
  


...

  
  


Your eyes blinked open, the light immediately assaulting your retinas and sending a shooting sensation into the back of your skull. You squeezed them shut again and pressed a hand to your forehead, propping yourself up with one arm...

  
  


... And then the smell made sense. That not-quite-petrichor street rain smell that immediately sent your body into panic mode.

  
  


_Hit._

  
  


The events of the day came back to you in a flurry of unwelcome emotions and your eyes snapped open, not caring about the attacking glare. Everything faded in from white, your mind still protesting- you were sitting up in a _giant_ bed. The room around you was huge too; a brilliant large window opened the far wall to the darkness outside, the curtains floating lazily back and forth in the miniscule breeze, like the trailing underwater stingers of a jellyfish. The ceiling sported a glimmering mini chandelier roughly the side of your head that was the source of the mental noise... the longer you looked at it the more focused your vision became. You could see an unused dresser, a bedside table, a generic painting on the wall...

  
  


... And next to the bed you were lying in, a looming figure in a chair, his grin wide across his face.

  
  


_It’s him._

  
  


You _immediately_ flung yourself back to the other end of the bed, as far away as you could, his forward-leaning posture making you think he was going to jump toward you. You quickly scurried backwards off of the bed, until your back was pressed up against the wall, heart pounding and palms clammy.

  
  


His eyelights followed you the whole way.

  
  


... You didn’t move from there. You remembered (your chest rising and falling with increasing adrenaline) how quickly he’d caught you earlier- how easily he’d grabbed you and pinned you in his hold, how effortlessly he’d held against your most desperate struggling.

  
  


... Your hand reflexively came up to your neck. ... You _never_ wanted to go through that again.

  
  


“aw.” He chuckled, a sound you once found so comforting. He was wearing the same clothes as before, but with the addition of a very expensive looking black suit jacket, and he was resting his elbows on his knees, the top of his knuckle almost touching his chin.

  
  


Had he been _watching you sleep!?_

  
  


His eyelights... God, his eyelights. Small, sharp, amused but _calculating,_ like looking into the eyes of a tiger ready to attack.

  
  


“why so scared, lil’ bunny?” He grinned, golden tooth glinting in the light. Was it really a smile, or was he baring his teeth in dominance?

  
  


... You did exactly what any prey cornered would do- you felt your muscles tense and chest puff out, almost as if you were trying to seem bigger, stronger, _less easy of a meal._

  
  


“You _kidnapped_ me!” You said. “A-and _watched me sleep!?”_

  
  


“course i had to watch.” He purred, in a tone that would’ve been almost coy had you not known the look in his eyelights. “didn’t want ya to get any nasty side effects without me here to help. besides...” He waved a hand, gaze finally breaking from yours. “‘kidnapping’ is such a... _distasteful_ word. i prefer ‘forcibly moved in’.”

  
  


_“Kidnapped!”_ You shrieked.

  
  


That made him laugh to himself, the sound so similar to a growl that it made your skin crawl.

  
  


... In an instant, your face was so close to him that your nose could’ve touched his shirt with just a little lean forward, vision blocked out by his broad chest. You let out a tiny shocked scream and your gaze immediately shot upward to meet his far-too-close eyelights, flattening against the wall to the best of your abilities- you were so close to him you felt a tiny buzz of his post-teleport magic in the air. It danced across your skin and cheeks... as if even his _magic_ was desperate to be close to you.

  
  


Had you not been so terrified you could’ve broken down crying on the spot, you would’ve found it funny that he did this exact same wall pin move on you back when you first met, and he was suspicious of why you knew so much about him. But this time it wasn’t to scare you, or interrogate you... it was simply because he wanted to keep you in one place and be as close as possible.

  
  


“we’re soulmates, y’know.” He said, forearm coming up to rest on the wall by your head, further restricting you. “well... you’re the soulmate of all of us.”

  
  


... You couldn’t talk, too confused and petrified, heart beating so fast you were certain he could hear it.

  
  


His sockets softened, free hand reaching out to your face. You tried to push away but you couldn’t- you weren’t able to physically flatten yourself against the wall any further, and moving your face any more would press your cheek up to the arm blocking your exit. “we’re linked through time... _meant_ to be together. that blue idiot, the red one who looks like me, this ‘skull’ guy you mentioned... they’re connected to you too, sure... but not like me.”

  
  


His knuckle grazed your cheek, and he started to lean closer, blocking the light. Your stomach hit the floor as you realised he was trying to kiss you, his razor eyelights flickering down to your lips, expression shifting into a stare filled with an emotion that felt like a hollow copy of love.

  
  


“no... not like me.”

  
  


... The guys.

  
  


You needed to contact them.

  
  


You knew it was incredibly unlikely- there was no way that Hit would be that sloppy after all his apparent ‘preparations’. You mostly wore men’s jeans because the pockets were deep enough to actually get a device in. Your hand surreptitiously moved down to your pocket to feel for your ph-

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


It was still there.

  
  


_Your phone was still in your pocket._

  
  


... Hit must’ve seen the tiny jolt of realisation that passed across your features because he was _inches_ away, so close you could feel his breath on your lips. His ‘loving’ stare immediately vanished, eyelights flickering downward- to where your hand was still lightly pressed over an outline in your pocket he hadn’t noticed before due to the excited magic rushing around his system after kidnapping you.

  
  


...

  
  


“give that to me.” His tone was sharp, eyelights coming back up to glare into your own terrified eyes.

  
  


...

  
  


A tiny, crucial piece of information chose that moment to spring to your mind, the realisation making whatever spell on your body that was freezing it break. A flashback, an epiphany, whatever the _fuck_ you wanted to call it, rushed into your thoughts- your eyes widened a fraction.

  
  


When Hit opened doors for you, he’d always used his left hand.

  
  


_All your Sanses are left handed. He must be too._

  
  


... You made a milisecond-long prayer to the first God that came to mind, and went for it.

  
  


Kicking off the wall for an essential tiny speed boost, you darted directly under his left arm. You knew if you went under his right side, he could reach across himself and grab you instantly- he wasted a precious moment turning on the spot to try and seize you. The very tips of his razor sharp phalanges caught your back and sliced right through the shirt, catching your skin.

  
  


You _knew_ the door would be locked, he may not have thought about mobile phones but he sure as shit would’ve thought about doors. So instead, you went straight for the place that would buy you crucial seconds- _under the bed-_ and you ran straight for it, all that panic finally serving a purpose as your adrenaline-filled legs sprang you much much further than you ever thought you could go in one step. _R-run!_

  
  


You dove for it, down onto the carpet, narrowly missing whacking your head on the side. The space underneath was easily enough for your tiny body, but you knew for a fact he’d get wedged trying to follow after- you crawled as fast as you could on your forearms, scrabbling further under... God, how much bed did someone _need?_

  
  


As soon as you felt like you were far enough that his arms couldn’t reach you underneath, you took out your phone from your pocket and turned it on, the light startling your eyes again. The lines on your back where his claws had caught you felt hot, and were starting to radiate pain.

  
  


_“_ _**doll.”** _

  
  


... Hit’s icily _furious_ tone was so terrifying that your finger slipped and you put in the wrong passcode. You swallowed, hands clammy and eyes starting to well up with tears of fear, trying again and getting in.

  
  


“this whole runaway act is cute an’ all,” his footsteps were petrifyingly calm and slow. _“but i ain’t in the mood to chase.”_

  
  


Load, load, load! The messaging app finally opened, Sans’s smiling face icon appearing. You jammed in ‘hrlpm’ and it was, thank _God,_ autocorrected to ‘help’.

  
  


... There was a loud _crack._

  
  


Hit’s hand was settled at the edge of the bed on the underside, just behind you. You looked over your shoulder and watched, in horror, as the foundations that had bolted the bed into the floor and wall tore and crunched like nothing more than paper and glue. With a single hand he lifted the bed up, right up to an almost 80 degree angle, his eyelights fixated on you with a twisted look of anger.

  
  


...

  
  


You turned off your phone, and in a moment of desperation and panic, turned over onto your back and launched it at him as hard as you could, with the intent of getting him in the chest or something to stagger him.

  
  


It hit him in the face.

  
  


The device crashed into his cheekbone on a corner, flipped several times in the air, and fell to the carpet with a dull thud.

  
  


...

  
  


Hit paused, eyelights gone. He didn’t even move his head.

  
  


...

  
  


_You just._ Yeeted _your phone. At your much, MUCH stronger kidnapper._

  
  


...

  
  


... He started to laugh.

  
  


He leant down, still holding up the bed, grabbed your leg and pulled you toward him, a new look on his face; _mirth._ You screamed and kicked at him, the carpet pulling your shirt up and burning your already injured back, but it was no use- once you were completely out he dropped the bed again with a giant, crushing slam.

  
  


“that was pretty cute, i’ll admit it.” He knelt down between your legs. You were now stuck on your back, one leg kicking at him, the other firmly held by the ankle in his grip. ... In his opposite hand was your phone, still, strangely enough, _working._ “what did you call it the other day... ‘yeeting’? very funny.”

  
  


... No. Wait. It wasn’t your phone. The case was wrong. You glanced across the carpet and saw your _real_ phone, the screen shattered beyond repair, having broken instantly upon impact with Hit’s face.

  
  


... He held his phone out in your direction, still grinning.

  
  


“take it.”

  
  


“... What?” You looked at him, glaring, trying to remain calm despite your position and despite the way he was staring at you.

  
  


“you’re gonna call up ‘sans’ and tell him everything’s fine.” Hit purred.

  
  


...

  
  


“No.”

  
  


... Your voice came out wobblier than anticipated, but it was firm.

  
  


...

  
  


It was like a literal shadow fell over his face as he looked down at you. His eyelights shrank to pricks and his smile widened across his cheekbones, face dark- your mind defaulted back to comparing him to a tiger. Your breath immediately caught in your throat and you tried to kick away; no use. He was still frighteningly strong.

  
  


“... no?” He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at _all._ “oh. i think yer a bit _confused.”_

  
  


Without warning, his grip on your ankle tightened, his wrist rotating outward and bending your foot at a cruel angle. You cried out immediately, kicking and pulling your leg, trying to push away with your hands, the muscles screaming in protest of the forced position- just an _inch_ further and it would all crunch, and your ankle would snap like a chocolate bar.

  
  


“Y-you’re hurting me!”

  
  


“listen, toots.” He growled. “i ain’t like your sappy little buddies who can’t bring themselves to even look at you wrong. i don’t enjoy hurting you, trust me. but if i have to, to keep you with me? i won’t hesitate.”

  
  


_“I won’t call them!”_ You yelled, squeezing your eyes shut, chest burning with a sensation you couldn’t describe. It was like something inside you was finally starting to react with the situation- like it was lashing out from the pain.

  
  


You were willing to take a broken leg. He wouldn’t kill you- you knew that. All he could do was hurt you! And so long as the guys thought you were in trouble, your chance of pulling through was _so much_ higher. You felt a tiny surge ofslightly hysterical pride... he couldn't make you do it. He couldn't make you do _anything._

  
  


...

  
  


... You peeked your eyes open again when nothing happened.

  
  


His face had shifted. It’d moved into something akin to... _understanding._ But that smile... it wasn’t kind understanding- it was understanding like he’d figured out a particularly funny _joke._

  
  


“heh. ... i get it.” His grip on your ankle loosened, your foot setting back into it’s normal place, nerves crackling with pain and crying out in relief. You immediately yanked it out of his hold, knee coming into your chest. “you’re willin’ to take a bit of roughin’ up. s’admirable. i like it.”

  
  


He stood. A hot, smokey presence closed around your Soul, and yanked you up by the chest, like a doll being lifted off the floor on a single string. You yelped in surprise, one foot setting on the ground and the injured one almost collapsing under your weight; Sans always asked you before using his gravity magic on you. _Always._

  
  


You felt your throat tighten at the thought of your roommate as Hit grabbed your wrist roughly and started dragging you toward the door. You looked up at his giant frame, his huge square shoulders and black coat, all the way down to his iron grip on your forearm that was so tight your skin was going white... and all you could think about was gentle, round Sans. You were pretty sure that if you saw Sans now, or Red, or God, _Skull,_ you’d burst into tears on the spot.

  
You couldn’t dig your ankles into the carpet given your injury, and pulling did nothing except hurt more, so you had no choice but to go along with him. Hit opened the door and took you into the hallway he’d kidnapped you from... just looking at it made you feel sick, made you remember his iron hold around your neck, the sweet lemon smell as you went under.

  
  


... He marched into a new room, pushing the door open with his shoulder and all but throwing you in. You stumbled, body not ready for the strength of his throw-

  
  


-and tripped, right into the arms of someone else.

  
  


You stumbled, finding yourself staring at a very neat pair of white sleeves that had instinctively grabbed you to keep you up. You looked up, holding onto the forearms and blinking in shock- they looked down at you, just as shocked.

  
  


... It was a monster. Just a bit bigger than you. They looked like a human woman with absolutely no visible facial features save for her large, blank white eyes. Her skin was like soft, moldable white plastic, and her whole body was emitting a gentle yellowish glow, the colour of the sun on a cold day. ... As if she were a giant night light.

  
  


She was wearing a black shirt, white apron, white collar, and on the floor was a small handheld vacuum cleaner she’d dropped to catch you.

  
  


... A servant.

  
  


“you.” Hit’s voice was sharp and commanding. She looked up, startled, yellow glow swirling into white as she met his completely cold gaze. “over here.”

  
  


... She hesitated for a moment. ... But, with a noticeable silent swallow, she let go of your arms and walked across the carpet to him, each footstep cautious and slow.

  
  


_... What is he going to do to her!?_ You wanted to scream at her to come back, to not go over, but you knew that if Hit had looked at you with those cold, evil eyelights and told you to come over to him, you would’ve done it.

  
  


“on your knees.”

  
  


... Your stomach plummeted.

  
  


... She obeyed, getting carefully down onto her knees, the air becoming thick with fear. Hit reached into his suit pocket and in a smooth, unhesitating move, pulled out a something strange and metal and pointed it directly toward the glowing monster’s head.

  
  


... It took a few milicseconds for you to realise that he was holding a gun.

  
  


_“W-wait!”_ You screamed, a tsunami of panic hitting you instantaneously, stumbling forward a few steps, arms outstretched in front of you. “Wait, stop, what are you doing?! _Th-they didn’t do anything!”_

  
  


“exactly. so call sans.” He said, voice cool and terrifyingly calm, eyelights still as sharp as a tungsten needle. “call your little friends and tell them everything’s fine. or i’ll blast this cute little lux’s dust all over the floor.”

  
  


Your eyes darted between Hit’s face, the gun, and the monster now a pure shade of white that you could only assume was fear. “H-how do I know you’re not bluffing?!”

  
  


He turned the gun just to the side of the ‘lux’s’ head, pointed at the carpet behind her. Without even blinging or taking his eyelights off of you, he _fired._

  
  


There was a _horrendously_ loud _CRACK_ sound, followed by a painful, disorienting ringing in your sensitive ears- both you and the lux jumped; you let out a tiny scream of terror, whole body flinching, and she seized up as freeze instinct took over her body.

  
  


“oh, baby.” He reloaded, the muzzle this time making contact with the monster’s forehead, the delicate light glinting against the cold, cruel metal. Her wide, petrified eyes were unable to move away from the gun, her legs and arms shivering in fear.

  
  


His eyelights extinguished. “ **i** _**n e v e r**_ **b l u f f . ”**

  
  


_Oh God, no!_

  
  


“N-no! No, fine, fine, I’ll do it! I’ll call them!” You cried out, as loudly as you could, arms outstretching again. _You couldn’t watch someone die._ “I’ll do it, don’t shoot! _Please!”_

  
  


... His eyelights returned.

  
  


...

  
  


... You stared at the quivering, silent monster, the muzzle of the gun still pressed against her forehead. You didn’t know if there were tears in the corners of her eyes or if the light was just making them shine, but either way, it didn’t matter.

  
  


“... L-let them go first.” You glanced back up at Hit, voice cautious, but determined.

  
  


...

  
  


He shrugged, as if you’d asked him to do a simple chore. He put the gun back in his suit pocket, gesturing to the door with a sight quirk of his skull, looking down at the still-shaking lux. “go. shut the door behind you.”

  
  


... She took a moment to stagger to her feet, like a newborn deer... and bolted from the room, not making a sound.

  
  


...

  
  


You held onto your arms to try and stop your own horrified shaking, heart still pumping fast after what you’d witnessed, unable to even look at Hit. He’d... he’d been willing to _kill_ someone. You felt so sick, so _weak,_ so helpless for giving in like that.

  
  


...

  
  


Hit held out the phone expectantly.

  
  


\---

  
  


_“hey. you’re through to sans. yes grillby i know my tab’s getting large, no papyrus i haven’t picked up my sock, no i don’t want to buy car insurance. if your name isn’t pap, (y/n), toriel or alphys, don’t leave a message. just text me anyway, i’m too lazy to call back. see ya.”_

  
  


...

  
  


_“H-hey guys. It’s me. S-sorry about that random text, I sat on my phone and it autocorrected it to the worst possible thing, haha... ...Turns out I’m gonna be out a lot later than I thought, so don’t worry if I don’t come home tonight. Uhm..._

  
  


_..._

  
  


_... Could you go out and pick up some candy from the store, if you get the chance? Just for snacks for tomorrow? Like, uh..._

  
  


_... Maybe M &Ms. Or something. I dunno. _

  
  


_..._

  
  


_... Talk later.”_


	28. why i love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans reminisces...  
> ... and Skull figures something out.

_i deserve this. i deserve_ _**t** _ **_hem._ **

  
  


Sans opened one socket curiously as the sound of a key going into the apartment door lock awoke him from his light slumber.

  
  


... Ah. The _roommate._

  
  


He shut the socket again, brow furrowing just the slightest, grin dropping to a small curve. He’d been enjoying his sofa nap, taking up the whole couch... what a shame you were home.

  
  


... He hadn’t intended to have the human around in the apartment this long. He was really hoping that, by this point, you’d get annoyed with his blatantly racist remarks or feel threatened by his deliberately frightening aura or get fed up with his general uncleanliness and asshole attitude... He’d really pulled out _all_ the stops to be the worst possible roommate. Only thing he had left up his sleeve was to literally start stealing from you... and, while tempting, such a thing was out of bounds for him unless he wanted you to go to the police and have a very strong case to get his bony ass landed right in the slammer with Undyne watching over him constantly.

  
  


He tapped his index phalange against his femur. He only let you stay while he saved money to complete his machine... once he had the patent he wouldn’t need anything else. Now that the device was finished and he was ready to submit it, he really wanted this annoying, stubborn, unfairly pretty-

  
  


...

  
  


His sockets shot open. Unfairly... _pretentious_ human. Yes.

  
  


That’s what he meant.

  
  


.... Pretentious.

  
  


... He sighed, looking to the side, letting the air flow between his bones. He supposed it’s his fault after all; _he_ was the one who accepted a Determined Soul into his home. You were probably holding out on this just to piss him off, just to prove a point, even if you didn’t consciously know you were doing it. He should’ve thought it through a bit more and leased to a Kindness or Integrity Soul... they’d be far more easy to scare and boot...

  
  


He glanced at the clock, the apartment quiet aside from your noisy footsteps and breathing. _they're_ _kinda late home tonight, huh?_ He missed the silence... he missed being able to walk around in his underwear, or have everything unbearably messy, or stay up in the living room until 4 in the mornin-

  
  


-vomit.

  
  


The acrid stench hit him like a sucker punch to the non-existent nostrils. He blinked multiple times and screwed up his face, sitting up- what the fuck? Eugh, _gross..._ He covered his nasal cavity. Your smell was usually gentle and inviting, soft, like rosemary and-

  
  


...

  
  


He growled to himself. _god, shut UP brain, would you!? quit thinking about stupid things!_

  
  


... He grumbled to himself, swinging his legs over the side of the couch, deciding it would be best to at least check up on you and make sure you weren’t dying or coughing up your lungs or something. It would look _very_ suspicious for a human roommate to turn up dead in her shared apartment with a _monster._

  
  


He slid his feet into his slippers and teleported across the carpet, too lazy to make the short distance. He vanished again, reappearing outside the bathroom door, not bothering to knock to see if he could come in- the door was unlocked so he just shrugged to himself and pushed it open.

  
  


...

  
  


You...

  
  


... You looked pathetic.

  
  


He _immediately_ regretted not knocking, sockets widening. You were on your knees in front of the toilet, your arms resting along the seat, head laid on your own upper arm. The back of your head was to him but he could easily see the frazzled, barely-contained hair, the stained work uniform, the one missing shoe...

  
  


... The bouncing of your shoulders as you sobbed, clearly trying to keep it all in.

  
  


He could smell the vomit still clinging to the toilet bowl, the dirt on your foot, the coffee stain on your work outfit, the thick cloud of alcohol on your breath, and the salty sweet tears caked to your cheeks.

  
  


...

  
  


He turned to leave. This wasn’t his problem. _not my circus, not my monkeys._ This wasn’t his issue, this wasn’t-

  
  


...

  
  


... This wasn’t...

  
  


...

  
  


_...why can’t i walk away?_

  
  


His feet felt rooted to the ground through his slippers, as if someone was using his own blue magic against him. Your weak whimpering was invading his skull, the sickly smells burning inside his nasal cavity and sockets so unpleasantly he felt like he might pass out, but...

  
  


... He couldn’t move. His Soul, that he’d repeatedly been ignoring for being sappy and trying to get close, was whining inside his chest, tugging at his ribs and legs, compelling him to turn around.

  
  


...

  
  


No, it wasn’t his Soul. He couldn’t blame it on his Soul. He squeezed his sockets shut, grimacing in shame.

  
  


... It wasn’t his Soul. It was just him. He couldn’t do it- he couldn’t turn away from you like this.

  
  


He looked over his shoulder, sucking in a breath. You let out a particularly pathetic little sound that you quickly tried to swallow back, to no avail, and that was his breaking point.

  
  


He turned around and headed back into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft ‘clunk-click’ behind him.

  
  


_stars, i’m weak._

  
  


You looked up at the sound. Fuck, you looked even worse now that he could see your face- pink puffy eyes and cheeks, quivering lower lip...

  
  


And when you saw it was him, more tears flooded your already waterlogged eyes and you choked out a little blubber, putting your head back down and immediately starting to try and shut yourself up again, his being there clearly making your mood, stomach and crying so much worse.

  
  


He felt unnecessarily shit at that revelation, biting his back teeth together to stop himself making a comment.

  
  


...

  
  


You vomited again, whole body convulsing in a horrific way he’d never seen before and didn’t want to _ever_ see again. He covered his eyesockets with one hand, making a slightly grossed out sound in the back of his throat.

  
  


“... k-kiddo.” He forced out, mouth tight, as if chewing on toffees. “c’mon. stop it. that’s gross.”

  
  


... No response, as anticipated, considering you were busy emptying the remaining acidified contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl.

  
  


... He elected to just... Sit down, next to you. He could do that. He settled slowly onto the cold tiles, severely out of his depth, waiting for you to calm down a little, looking at literally anything that wasn’t your contracting ribcage.

  
  


... It was due to his absolute disgust at the way your body was currently moving that he noted the hair tie on the floor, by your knee. He picked it up, stretching it into a triangle between his thumb, index and middle phalanges.

  
  


...

  
  


... He glanced to your soft, soft hair, hanging dangerously close to your mouth.

  
  


He couldn’t deny he’d wanted to touch it a few times. When you’d walked past him, or been napping quietly on your side of the couch in front of a still-on TV, or tucked it out of your face while doing something important. It looked smooth, so smooth, and even from here he could imagine what it would feel like, curling between his phalanges...

  
  


...

  
  


... He took the hair tie and allowed it to float for a few moments, surrounded by blue magic, suspended in nothingness.Then he used both of his hands to gently scrape along your scalp, gathering the delicate, flexible strands to the back of your head (stars, it was just as wonderful to touch as he’d suspected). He wasn’t sure how to tie a ponytail but he had a slight idea... he plucked the band out of the air and wrapped the tie around the body of hair once, twice, three times, eventually letting it snap it in place.

  
  


He wasn’t the _best_ at it, seeing as he’d never done it before. There were some strands falling down, a few loose... but at least it wasn’t under threat of being puked on now. He felt pretty proud of himself.

  
  


...

  
  


Not sure what to do, he ran his hand over the top of your head, and then patted your back as gently as possible, hoping to offer some silent support.

  
  


... You sniffled, face emerging from the toilet bowl. After a few moments of pause to make sure you weren’t immediately going to hurl again, you...

  
  


... You shuffled so that your body was leaning against his, head resting on his shoulder.

  
  


_... what._

  
  


His cheekbones, predictably, went an embarrassingly bright blue at the contact. But he didn’t look the gift horse in the mouth and he secured his arm further around you, trying to be as gentle as possible.

  
  


_... i’m not sure how human drunkenness works._ He thought, as your crying began to slow. _but i’m assuming that in their case, it makes them..._

  
  


_... emotional._

  
  


He didn’t want to admit it, but the pathetic little sobbing sounds you were making were reminding him of his own midnight panic attacks that rendered him a mess in his sweaty bed sheets. It was very, _very_ hard to remain spiteful against you when you were just a little sobbing ball in his hold.

  
  


... Maybe he’d... gone about this wrong.

  
  


“... what...” He took a deep breath. “... what’s wrong, kiddo?”

  
  


... Your crying paused a bit, and you raised your head from his shoulder, glancing up to meet his eyelights. He flushed again- you didn’t seem to have any care/knowledge of personal space when you were this drunk, your face only inches from his, suddenly looking a lot softer than he remembered.

  
  


“... i-i wanna know what’s got you all messed up.” He choked, eyelights small, for some godforsaken reason instinctively leaning forward.

  
  


...

  
  


You put your head back on his shoulder, a move which he internally thanked you for, a small, shaky breath escaping his ribcage.

  
  


“I hate this.” You said, voice small, and sore. “This endless loop I’m stuck in. I get up, go to work, get harassed by my boss, come home, sleep. Drink at the weekends and maybe visit a friend if any of them can be bothered to see me. Everyone dislikes or harrasses me. Then it just... j-just keeps continuing. No matter what I do, it al... always...”

  
  


Your voice cracked and your shoulders started to bounce again. Sans blabbed out the first thing that came to mind, desperate to stop you from bursting into tears again.

  
  


“n-not _everyone_ hates you, kiddo.”

  
  


... You sniffled, pausing.

  
  


...

  
  


“Everyone in at least a 5 mile radius.”

  
  


“no, not that either.”

  
  


_“You_ hate me.”

  
  


He cringed. “i don’t...”

  
  


“Yes you do.” You cut across, unforgivingly. He didn’t have to look at your face to know your eyes were narrowing.

  
  


... He didn’t have anything to say. He stared at a spot on the floor, swallowing, feeling a slight sweat break out on his skull.

  
  


... He didn’t hate _you._ He just... he didn’t like humans, and you happened to be one... no matter how cute and pretty and funny you were...

  
  


...

  
  


... Shit. He’d been crushing this whole time, hadn’t he?

  
  


He groaned, smacking his forehead and dragging it down his face. He’d been crushing this whole stupid time, crushing on all the nice things about you, but he’d just been an idiot about it because his stupid conscious brain was too anti-human to allow the rest of him to properly process all the things he liked about you.

  
  


He’d _definitely_ gone about this wrong. He was centimetres away from fucking this up forever.

  
  


Your voice got smaller, and hoarse. “... People hate me before they even get to know me.”

  
  


“don’t take it personal, kid.” He said, trying to be soft, trying his best to make what he was about to say not sound cruel or cutting. “... i just... don’t... like humans...?”

  
  


_fuck, shit, no, don’t put it like that! that’s worse, you moron!_

  
  


... At that, you sighed to yourself, sad and surrendered to whatever friendless fate your mind had resigned you to, bracing your hands against his chest to move away from him.

  
  


...

  
  


He felt the overwhelming urge to not let go.

  
  


He couldn’t keep screwing this up. He felt it in his chest- if he let this go any further you’d reach the point of no return, and become unreachable to him.

  
  


He needed to start closing the gap, as soon and as much as possible.

  
  


Without a word, he moved his hand further down your back and scooped the other under your knees, cleanly lifting you into the air. You squeaked in slightly delayed shock, grappling your arms around his neck...

  
  


... He chuckled. Stars, you were so light and soft... he wanted to say small, but the two of you were the same height.

  
  


“Wh... h-hey! Put me down!” You said, even as you squeezed yourself closer to him.

  
“c’mon, kiddo.” He kicked up his foot and flushed the toilet with his heel, unwilling to let go. “let’s get you some water before you pass out again. don’t you need to brush your teeth, too?”

  
  


\---

  
  


_Present day._

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


... You used the code.

  
  


...

  
  


Sans supposed it was probably a blessing that the three of them were in the apartment when they got that voicemail. Otherwise they would’ve blown a whole ‘nother block’s worth of light bulbs in an instant, and probably shattered all the windows too.

  
  


He hadn’t responded to the number, seeing it was an unknown, untraceable one... he just assumed it was some kind of insurance bot and he _really_ didn’t care about that shit right now. And by the time it’d occurred to him that you could be calling from someone else’s phone, it’d already gone to voicemail...

  
  


... M&Ms. You’d asked for fucking M&Ms.

  
  


_The code word._

  
  


You were in danger. You were in danger, and they didn’t know where you were.

  
  


“we can’t call the police.” He said, glancing up at the other two. “they won’t listen to a bunch of monsters. i’m getting undyne and alphys.”

  
  


They were all gathered around the couch in the apartment... Skull sitting on the left, Sans perched on the right arm, and Red sitting on the floor with his back against the foot of it, stress smoking the tail end of his fourth cigarette pack. Sans would’ve told Red not to smoke indoors, but... he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to him, knowing it was probably the only thing stopping him from having a full-on panic attack.

  
  


“they musta been kidnapped.” Red said, his eyelights darting up to meet Sans’s, small and sharp. “they used the code. someone’s with 'em, and that someone don’t want people knowing they're in danger.”

  
  


“wouldn’t have had to use the code word anyway.” Sans replied... not admitting how much the invasive smell of smoke was helping him think. “their voice was shaking like there’s no tomorrow. whoever’s with them can’t be happy...”

  
  


... Skull’s expression shifted, the smallest bit. Sans looked at his larger self out of the corner of his socket... the big guy had been silent since the moment they got the first text, deep in thought. His eyelight was small, contacted... but every few moments, it seemed to dilate and expand, as if mapping out and reacting to his each thought as it moved through his head.

  
  


It was, admittedly, fascinating to watch. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t even stir when Undyne and Alphys arrived... not the slightest flinch, not the smallest hint of despisement.

  
  


His mind was, for the time being, completely focused on finding you.

  
  


“I-I tried to track their phone when you told me what h-happened...” Alphys said, her claws closed securely around her own brick-thick phone. She had a small pink floral shirt and jeans on, her shoulders hunched in worry. “B-but whoever h-has them either disabled their ph-phone or destroyed it. P-probably destroyed, seeing a-as I can’t track it at _all.”_

  
  


“How do we know they haven’t just killed (y/n)?” Undyne asked, slit eye glancing from her fiancée’s phone to the group of very _very_ stressed skeletons gathered around the singular piece of furniture.

... Sans could feel the jolt of magic in the air when she said that, and he was certain she’d felt it too, judging by how her sharp teeth immediately curled into a frown.

  
  


“... they're not dead.” Sans said. Subconsciously, his hand came up to his chest, where he massaged his collarbone just over his Soul. “... i can feel it.”

  
  


“... Any idea who would’ve done it?” Undyne asked, her hands deep in the pockets of her black leather jacket. “Any clue of who’d wanna kidnap them and keep them alive? No ransom, no request... No offence, but you guys are hardly rich at the moment.”

  
  


“it must be a human.” Sans said, rubbing becoming more of a scratching as he stared into the middle distance. “no monster would dare to take them, they're basically drowned in our combined scent-”

  
  


“blue.”

  
  


...

  
  


Sans looked across to Skull, as did the rest of the group.

  
  


His voice was quiet, and soft- and yet it carried a clarity and urgency that demanded all attention in the room.

  
  


His eyelight was contracted to almost as small as it’d been when he tried to attack Frisk... no larger than a quarter, a spot of blood red light. He turned, and looked over at Sans...

  
  


... Who recognised his expression as realisation.

  
  


“it could still be a monster.”

  
  


“... how?” Red asked, brows drawing together as he looked up and over his shoulder at Skull. “what monster would have the balls to go against _one_ sans, let alone _three._ no one’s as powerful as-”

  
  


...

  
  


... The cigarette went lax in his teeth.

  
  


“... what?” Sans sat up, his Soul starting to pound as whatever realisation Skull and Red had had completely evaded him.

  
  


... Red looked at Skull- the two of shared a single glance that seemed to say a thousand words. Then Red turned back to Sans, spinning in his position so that he could actually face him.

  
  


“are ya absolutely certain we’re the only sanses you brought through that machine?”

  
  


...

  
  


Sans’s brows raised. “... any other universe’s sans caught by the loophole would’ve been sucked through his machine to mine. we would’ve seen him.”

  
  


“... And if he didn’t have a ‘machine’?” Undyne asked. Alphys seemed to have frozen.

  
  


“then he wouldn’t have been brought through in the first place.” Sans insisted, sitting up, almost to the point of falling off the arm of the couch. “the loophole only affected nearby universes with a direct or semi-direct association with ours. skull and red’s universes are just mine with a small change at some point in the timeline- that being frisk leaving them behind, and asgore’s lv and attitude to being locked underground, respectively.” He stared off to one side, gritting his teeth together slightly. “as much as i may have wanted it to be, the machine wasn’t powerful enough to access places utterly dissimilar from this universe from the get-go.”

  
  


“... But.” Alphys raised a small, scaly finger, all eyes suddenly on her, with a glint in her eyes she only seemed to get when talking about things she was deeply passionate about or understood greatly. “What if... it was a timeline so greatly interwoven with a universe already brought through, that just being in the wrong place at the wrong time looped him in?”

  
  


Red nodded, voice breathy with a mild panic. _“exactly._ no choice changes, no nothin’. just that exact timeline further on. an’ if that were the case an’ he didn’t have his machine...”

  
  


“he could’ve been brought through anywhere.” Skull’s increasingly small eyelight had almost entirely disappeared at that point, and yet his demeanour was icy calm, like a computer system chugging lines of code faster than a human mind could even start forming first letter. “if he was planning this, he wouldn’t want us to know he’s here. he would’ve convinced them not to tell us.”

  
  


Red let out a grating sigh, rubbing his head. “of _course they_ ’d give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  
  


...

  
  


Sans’s nonexistent stomach hit the floor, eyelights going out.

  
  


“... he’s going to try to take them back with him. isn’t he?”

  
  


Red visibly startled, but he regained himself quickly, sockets wide. “no, no _way._ there’s no way he can build his own machine, it’ll take goddamn _years.”_

  
  


“... takes years to build it from _scratch.”_ Skull pointed out, still soft-voiced. “if he already knows all the calculations, which he will...”

  
  


Alphys looked grave. “It could take him less than a month. And if he’s already kidnapped them, that means he’s planning to leave _very_ soon.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


_“THEN WHY THE_ _**HELL** _ _ARE YOU IDIOTS ALL SITTING AROUND LOOKING SO SORRY FOR YOURSELVES!?”_

  
  


Undyne’s voice could’ve taken down the whole complex on it’s own. Alphys yelped and threw her phone up in the air, scrambling to catch it; Sans almost fell straight off the couch, Red inhaled and coughed on the end of his cigarette and Skull dug his claws straight through the cushion of the couch and into the wooden framework. The air crackled with azure lightning, fierce... and with a faint smell of fish.

  
  


“B-babe-” Alphys choked, holding her phone close.

  
  


“GET _OFF_ YOUR ASSES!” Undyne bellowed again, stomping one foot forward, immediately scaring everyone an equivalent step back. Her eye was practically _glowing_ an amber yellow against her cyan scales. “This asshole is about to steal your bae and you’re all just looking MOPEY! It’s a machine you MORONS have already built at _least_ THREE TIMES BETWEEN YOU, so there’s got to be SOME way to track the stinking thing that you know about!”

  
  


...

  
  


... Sans snapped his fingers and pointed at Red, sockets opening wide in shock and realisation. “the power surge. as it opens the gateway-”

  
  


Red was already getting to his feet, sockets just as wide. “-it has to access the void. that jump of energy, it’s so specific there’s no other possible way to create it-”

  
  


“-the machine i have, it can key in to the location!”

  
  


The two of them immediately teleported out, a loud clamouring and banging in the bedroom a clear enough indication of what was going on.

  
  


...

  
  


Skull rose to his feet, slow, deliberate. The atmosphere itself seemed to hold its breath... as he turned to face Undyne.

  
  


... Undyne didn’t flinch, her brows closing down over her single eye in determination, unperturbed even as Alphys grabbed her hand. Skull was looming, approaching, impossibly large, a whole head taller than the fish woman, eyelight burning with a completely unreadable fire.

  
  


He stopped directly in front of her, fists balled at his sides. She looked up at him, fearless- Alphys stepped behind her in terror.

  
  


...

  
  


Skulll reached out, and...

  
  


... put his hand on Undyne’s shoulder.

  
  


... She looked at the hand out of the corner of her eye and back up at him, confused... the unreadable blanket over his expression seemed to part, just a fraction, like someone within a house opening the blinds with their fingers to peek out.

  
  


Gratitude.

  
  


“thank you.”

  
  


...

  
And then the blinds closed again, and he turned, gone from the room to help the other two who were already talking in quick, charged voices.

  
  


...

  
  


“Wh... what just happened?” Alphys asked, small, sweat forming along her crowned scales, peering out from behind her fiancée’s legs to look at the closed door.

  
  


“... Not sure.” Undyne replied, calm. “But... I get the feeling he needed that.”

  
  


\---

  
  


It was a few hours of sitting in front of the makeshift screen of the machine, agitated and anxious, before the guys got a reading.

  
  


Just like that, the machine vibrated, shaking to life- a small beeper sounded and the three of them jumped to their feet, crowding close. Lines of information scrolled by at impossibly fast speeds, notations, levels, interruptions, frequencies, depths, coordinates-

  
  


_... coordinates!_

  
  


“there!” Red exclaimed, pointing, and Sans’s eyelights honed into dots, smile growing into something not too dissimilar from a hysterical glee.

  
  


“that’s in teleportation range.” He said, standing to full height, readying his magic. “i’ve never been there but i’m willing to risk the jump if it means saving a few essential minutes. let’s go. red? skull?”

  
  


... Skull turned to him, away from the screen, expression pulled into one of tormented frustration. “i can’t teleport that far in one go. you’ll have to go without me.”

  
  


Red rolled his shoulder with a loud, intense crack, his own dancing crimson power rushing through his entire body, lighting his socket up in a burst, like a pool gasoline erupting into flame. “then you’ll just have to run to meet us there, big guy.”

  
  


Skull nodded. “don’t let anything happen to them.”

  
  


“oh, don’t worry.” Sans said. His eyelights vanished... and his left eye crackled into life, a livewire bursting in a shock of blue and yellow.

  
  


_“we won’t.”_


	29. This is love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final confrontation.

_you tried to take them away from me. you’ll_ _**pay.** _

  
  


Hit’s grip on your wrist was like an iron shackle. You’d given up trying to tear your hand out of his hold a while ago, as he led your through the house toward the ‘under construction’ basement (God... how were you so gullible? It was so obvious now that you looked back on it), talking to someone on the phone. Something about his house... you immediately picked up on the name Sam.

  
  


Your pulse started to quicken as he dragged you down a small flight of stairs, pushing the basement open with his shoulder and forcing you inside, closing the door behind him. It was so dark, impossibly dark, you couldn’t see a thing, and it smelled of thick oil and metal...

  
  


...Tears sprung to your eyes as the scent reminded you ever-so-slightly of Red.

  
  


Did they know anything was wrong? Your heart sank and your throat closed up... all you could do was pray they remembered the code. Hit had seemed suspicious but hadn’t mentioned it, probably attributing your nervousness to the fact that he still had a _gun_ in his chest pocket.

  
  


Besides. Even if he knew what you’d said, how were the guys going to find you? Hit teleported you here, and your phone had been smashed to pieces... He probably thought they had no way to track you down.

  
  


He pulled you forward, and you stumbled over something small on the floor, almost falling flat on your face if it weren’t for the thick arm that wound around your middle to move you upright. You shoved away from him, angry and still panicked, sealing your own arms around you tightly... the only thing you could see in the dark, dark room was his menacing red eyelights.

  
  


“... course.” He chuckled, amused. The sound made you shudder. “forgot your little human eyes ain’t as sensitive in the dark. hold on...”

  
  


_Flick!_

  
  


You blinked as the room flooded with light, staggered for a few moments before your ‘little human eyes’ (what a dickhead) focused onto your surroundings. Hit discarded his jacket, throwing it to the floor.

  
  


...

  
  


Your stomach dropped.

  
  


It was a decently sized room, probably around the size of your living room. The walls and floor were the same plain smoothed concrete, and a single lightbulb hung, undecorated, from the ceiling. The walls were papered with blueprints and equations and lists that made your head spin just by looking at them... unfamiliar symbols and lines and graphs and long chains of numbers combining into single, large digits that you could tell were of utmost importance by how many red circles were drawn around them.

  
  


But in the middle of the room...

  
  


... A machine. Not too dissimilar from Sans’s- the only noticeable contrast being the higher quality of metal and the greater size. Two large metal pillars, one section on the right flattened by a small screen flanked with possibly a hundred different buttons of varying sizes and colours. The two sides were connected by a ridge along the top with tiny hair-thin black devices no longer than your thumb hanging down into the empty space.

  
  


You knew what it was in an instant. A doorway- _the_ doorway. The one Hit was planning to bring you through.

  
  


The machine loomed over you, a solid, _real_ promise of where you were going to be taken. It made a new type of panic started to rise inside you.

  
  


You stepped back instinctively, right into Hit’s waiting hands- he grabbed your lower arms, winding something thin and tight around your wrists. You didn’t even try to resist... you knew you couldn’t.

  
  


There was nothing you could do.

  
  


...

  
  


... You swallowed your fear, ignoring your shaking fingers, setting your face into a scowl in an attempt to mask the cold terror with hot, burning anger.

  
  


“... W-what was even the point of drugging me?” You said, sharp, cutting into the silence. “You’re clearly strong enough to just tie me up. And why’re you bothering to pass your house on to someone if this universe is going to freeze when I leave?”

  
  


He let out a little breathy chuckle, tightening the ropes until they were _just_ uncomfortable. You stared at a spot on the floor, unwilling to think about know how he became so adept at tying people up. “why’d i drug you? _power,_ doll. yer all cute an’ determined, course you were gonna fight. needed to make sure you understood the... gravity of the situation. knocked y’out for less than an hour and made my point.” He patted your arm. “an’ i’m passin’ my shit on because they know i’m leavin’, but if they knew their universe was gonna freeze they wouldn’t be too happy, would they? best ta let ‘em think things’ll keep happenin’ without me.

  
  


... You felt _sick._ As soon as his grip seemed light enough you tried to yank yourself away by pulling your arms toward you- but he dragged you back, easily, thick hands locking around your forearms with a respect-demanding grip.

  
  


“geeze.” He purred, in what you supposed was supposed to be a comforting or attractive voice, but just made you feel disgusting. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck... so warm goosebumps broke out on the flesh as you cringed away from him. “you really don’t give up, do you?”

  
  


Your only reply was another fierce scowl, nose wrinkling and lip curling up.

  
  


“... relax. 1920s ain’t _that_ bad. nothin’ like the 1920s _your_ timeline experienced, from what i’ve researched.” He reached around to touch your face, deceptively gentle after all the manhandling. “promise you’ll like it...”

  
  


Without warning, like _any_ cornered prey, you turned your head to the side and bit down on his phalange as hard as you could, making sure to try to catch it between your more powerful back teeth instead of the delicate front ones. You weren’t going for a nip... you were going for a _crunch._

  
  


He inhaled sharply through his nasal cavity and yanked it away, allowing you enough space to stumble forward. You caught yourself on the smooth floor and spun around, stabilizing, determined to keep a distance between the two of you.

  
  


... He put one hand on his hip (well... crest of his pelvis) and waved his hand as if he’d burnt it on something, the tense silence interrupted by an amused smile as he looked back up at you. “... ow... heheh. ya really _are_ a lil bearcat, ain’tcha?”

  
  


“I don’t even know what that means.” You spat, your jaw aching from the impact... it wasn’t designed to attempt to open bones.

  
  


“s’a nickname fer a _feisty fella_.”

  
  


... You couldn’t help it. You shivered in horror when he said that, the shudder travelling all the way up your spine from your toes to your hair- the way he said it gave you _intense_ creepy vibes.

  
  


“what. don’t like nicknames, doll?” He stepped forward.

  
  


You reacted with a step back of your own. “Oh, no, I love the nicknames the guys give me. I just hate _you.”_

  
  


... You saw his jaw set as his teeth gritted together.

  
  


Without warning, he poofed up close- no matter how many times he did that it always caught you off guard. You stumbled back, slipping on the smooth floor and tumbling onto your ass as your securely tied wrists failed to reach out behind you to stop your fall.

  
  


“i don’t-” His eyelights lit up with anger, leaning down to overshadow over you. For a moment, you were a rushed mix of scared and surprised; _biting_ him got a chuckle, but telling him you disliked him made him rush you like an oncoming train? “what’ve _they_ got that i don’t? you can’t fuckin’ tell me they’re not possessive, you smell like you’ve been _rolling_ in their scents.”

  
  


...

  
  


_Seriously!?_

  
  


“Well, for one, they didn’t fucking _kidnap_ me!” You spat, Determination surging in your chest in response to his completely stupendous comments. Was he really _that_ thick? Was he seriously confused as to why you liked _them_ more than him?! “And for another, _they_ love me!”

  
  


... His expression twisted. “wh- _i_ love you!”

  
  


“Liar!” You pushed yourself up so that you were on your knees instead of flat on your back. It seemed to surprise him, and he moved back a bit, dominance faltering. “You just like how I make you feel!”

  
  


...

  
  


He looked...

  
  


... Confused.

  
  


“... that...” His brows drew together. “... that isn’t love?”

  
  


...

  
  


Before you could muster a response to such a strange question, his face set back into his own cold, angered determination. He turned away from you, storming over to the machine, punching various symbols into the machine from the pad of hundreds of buttons.

  
  


... You looped your legs through your arms so your hands were at your front, pulling yourself to your feet from your kneeling position, voice raising significantly as you stumbled upright. You weren’t going to give this up. “You don’t _care_ how I feel, you only care about how _you_ feel!”

  
  


“that ain’t true.” He growled, not even turning to look at you. “shut up.”

  
  


“If you cared about how I felt, you wouldn’t be doing this.” You tugged at your hands, trying to slip your wrists out of the ropes. “You’d _respect_ when I said no!”

  
  


“you don’t _get_ it. i’m doin’ what’s right for both of us.”

  
  


_“BOTH OF US!?”_ You cried, almost hysterical. “This is what YOU want! I’ve been fighting you this whole time! You don’t understand the difference between loving someone and wanting to _own_ someone!”

  
  


...

  
  


... Your voice started to get choked, and cracked, as you stared at the back of his skull, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

  
  


“... Why, Hit? I _liked_ you. I _really_ liked you! You were so _kind_ to me, I wanted to spend time with you, w-we danced together, I thought you were...” The feeling of your hand in his, the other on the small of your back, the dim blue light of the first restaurant, the look in his eyelights as he asked you... “I-I thought you were _good._ But you’re not!”

  
  


“... stop it.” You didn’t hear the new thin edge to his voice, too caught up in your hurt and anger and regret. “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  
  


He pushed a large, white button, and a loud whirring started from within the machine, like standing next to a supercomputer.

  
  


_“I don’t know what I’m_ \- who threatens the person they love!?” You stepped forward, yelling now. “You would’ve _killed_ that monster to force me into doing something! _What kind of love is that?!”_

  
  


“ **shut up!”** He snarled, turning around to face you, hands balling into fists, as if he were going to _fight_ you.

  
  


“You _hurt_ me, Sans!”

  
  


...

  
  


... Something changed in his expression.

  
  


You couldn’t tell what, but you _knew_ something had- his brows slanted down, his shoulders sagged an inch, his eyelights... softened...

  
  


...

  
  


You felt something in the air... A snake of energy across your skin... the slight smell of pine, and thistles.

  
  


...

  
  


Hit’s sockets widened in shock. Yours, in hope.

  
  


Your heart pounded once, defined, against your ribcage.

  
  


And suddenly, Sans and Red were in the room in a crackle of power, shoulder to shoulder.

  
  


“fu-” Red blurted out, in horror, as he and Hit locked identical eyes and both reeled back in alarm. “he’s _me!?”_

  
  


“S-Sans! _Red!”_

  
  


Sans’s line of sight snapped over to you and his sockets widened in a flood of joy that you saw impacted literally every part of his body- he rushed across the room to you and you staggered forward to meet him in the middle, barely conscious of him yelling out your name, too lost in his fuzzy white eyelights. His arms sealed around you instantly and you pressed your face into his shoulder, going limp against him, immediately gasping in a breath of relief, your terror at being alone and your home universe freezing forever vanishing in his enveloping pine tree smell.

  
  


_They’re here! Th-they’re really here!_ You clutched the front of his jacket like a lifeline, the tightness of his hold a testament to how much he’d been worried. _They remembered the code!_

  
  


... But Hit’s voice dragged you out of you moment- a sharp, panicked curse, and pounding footsteps- you raised your head from Sans’s shoulder and locked eyes with a furious Hit-

  
  


-Red’s silhouette appeared in the way, mirroring him perfectly.

  
  


No words were exchanged; Red threw the first blow, that Hit blocked with his forearm, and Red quickly returned with a knee to the pelvis that sent your kidnapper staggering back to avoid it.

  
  


Sans tore the ropes around your hands with one finger; you felt blood rushing painfully back into the extremities. “T-teleport out!”

  
  


“i can’t. the machine is fucking with our powers.” He held onto your wrists, eyelights darting over to Red and Hit. Just his voice... that soft baritone wound around your Soul and brought you joy like you’d never felt before. “we felt it when we showed up- it’s like it’s dragging us toward it through the void. i can’t even summon my blasters; we _have_ to turn it off.”

  
  


You followed his line of sight- the other two were exchanging powerful physical blows without a shred of magic in sight, Red deliberately driving Hit away from you and Sans, but _God,_ it was like watching a mirror fighting itself. The same insanely fast and heavy attack patterns, the same dodges, the same body, the same expression of uncontrolled fury... like a lion locked in combat with a tiger. But Hit’s greater experience seemed to be catching ahead of the shock that left him vulnerable in the first place.

  
  


_Fuck._ Your chest became tight. _Please,_ please _don’t let anything happen to Red!_

  
  


A smile weaved onto Hit’s face as he caught a punch Red threw; you cried out, but instead of attacking him, Hit...

  
  


... Pulled him up close. Hit leant forward, until his snake-grin was in line with the side of Red’s skull... and he whispered something.

  
  


... Red’s eyelights went out.

  
  


He staggered back- Hit’s smile widened into a grin, brows raising a little in a knowing, mock-kind expression.

  
  


“we’re the same, ain’t we?” Hit turned his hands so his palms were facing Red, an almost... _friendly_ gesture that you knew was simply a display of confidence. You felt Sans’s arms tense around you. “not like them. they’re different versions of us... but me an’ you? we’re the _exact same person.”_

  
  


“no we fuckin’ ain’t!” Red said, slightly shrill, arms still up in a defensive stance.

  
  


“yes we are.” Hit stepped forward, a looming, powerful presence, eyelights sharp and shadowed. “i know you’ve thought about it. kidnappin’ them so you don't have t’share 'em with the others. takin’ them home with you so you can have 'em all to yerself.”

  
  


... You felt your heart pound in your chest. You looked from Hit to Red, from the one radiating confidence to the one bleeding shame and confusion.

  
  


“no!” Red insisted, backing up.

  
  


“you can’t deny it, _red.”_

  
  


... For a split second, Red’s gaze darted over to yours, panicked, seeking to affirm that he wouldn’t do _anything_ like this to you... you saw it happen in slow motion- Hit’s eyelights zeroed in on the kill, and he summoned a sharpened length of osseous matter into his hand that you could hardly call a bone, moving in to strike.

  
  


_“RED!”_

  
  


Sans teleported in, out of sheer habit. You saw the expression on his face when he landed just by Hit’s side- he had _not_ intended to be there- but he adjusted, summoning his own armament that looked _far_ more similar to a bone and struck upward, knocking the weapon out of Hit’s hand and into the air, where it disintegrated.

  
  


Hit turned, full focus now on the smaller skeleton.

  
  


He threw a punch; Sans ducked under it easily, barely having to lean back, his height working to fully to his advantage. Hit, frustrated, jabbed at him multiple times in quick succession, throwing fist after fist... Sans weaved back and forth and down and side to side like Hit was trying to punch a blade of grass.

  
  


_MISS_

_MISS_

  
  


_MISS_

_MISS_

  
  


And when Hit took a moment too long, Red almost caught him square in the back. He spun, off-guard, and narrowly avoided Sans _also_ going for his back, like a wolf when its prey turned too far.

  
  


... You looked away from the brawl, and to the machine.

  
  


...

  
  


Satisfied they knew what they were doing working as a team, you scurried over to the control panel, forcing down your fear

  
  


It was blue in colour, and as the whirring of the machine got louder, lines of code and symbols completely unfamiliar to you flurried by. Your hands shook as they hovered over the buttons- there were so _many,_ things you’d never seen before, God you _really_ wished you’d gone into coding. Weaved between the numbers and shapes were words that you could barely make out...

  
  


_Alternate... function, establish... alternate, 09889 route set false, 129002 route set false, 80082 route set true... 14... running parallel..._

  
  


... Maybe you could just break it? Find something heavy, rip open the metal sheet and fuck up whatever was inside the machine? Something as delicate as this surely couldn’t function without necessary wirin-

  
  


A loud crack made you jump; you turned, shocked, to see a very pissed off Hit retracting his arm from a punch that’d connected with Sans’s arm, throwing him so far back he slammed against the wall and slid down with an expression of pain, disturbing several sheets of paper that tore off and drifted to the ground. They looked exhausted... Sans’s forearm now had a hairline crack running up the length of it and Red was clutching his knuckle, sockets alive with energy as he jumped in front of the injured Sans. Hit didn’t have a scratch; at this point he looked like he was rather enjoying himself.

  
  


... Help. You needed to help! You looked around the room, panic rising inside you... what could you use? Hit struck one of Red’s punches away and raised his arm at them, trying to summon a blaster- the outline of a doglike skull appeared for a split second in the air above him before shimmering like a mirage and vanishing, making him curse to himself quietly. What did you have? There wasn’t anything you could-

  
  


... Your eyes zeroed in on the jacket Hit had discarded by the door.

  
  


...

  
  


You ran for it, scooping up the material and searching in the chest pocket, hands fumbling, mind working faster than it’d ever worked before- _there!_ You almost gasped, discarding the jacket and pulling the object out, darting to Hit as he threw Sans and Red against the wall, you raised it up-

  
  


Hit spun, hand snapping out and closing around your arm. Your body jolted unpleasantly, momentum dragging you until your stationary limb yanked you back again.

  
  


... He looked at your face, and the butt of the gun that you were going to bring down on his cranium. Deadpan.

  
  


He snarled. “... get _away_ from-”

  
  


...

  
  


... Something punched straight through the heavy basement door.

  
  


You turned.

  
  


_“_ _**Y O U . ”** _

  
  


... Hit let go of you instantly. You saw shock fill his face and you staggered back, falling into Red’s hold- he locked his arms around you tight and jumped back with Sans.

  
  


Clearing the arena.

  
  


“cavalry’s here.” Red said, quiet, as you held onto his ulna for support, your shoulders quaking.

  
  


...

  
  


_Skull_ clawed the splintered remaining door out of his way as if it were paper, the wood audibly crunching under his giant phalanges. You’d _never_ seen his eyelight that small. A single, miniscule, bloody pinprick, as small as Sans’s... _pulsating_ with energy that you could feel deep in your core, and you knew everyone else could feel too. You could taste his fury on the back of your tongue, so intensive it bordered into _insanity,_ teeth curled into a vicious snarling grin.

  
  


The terrifying gaze was locked onto Hit like the sight of a rifle. Could skeletons pale? You were pretty certain you saw Hit pale.

  
  


The tiger had fought a lion. It’d fought a wolf, too, and it’d taken on both at once...

  
  


... But was it prepared to face a _bear?_

  
  


...

  
  


No. No, it was not.

  
  


Skull rushed Hit so fast you barely saw the blur. He slammed into him- literally _slammed-_ Hit brought up his hands to grab at Skull’s thick wrists and prevent those talon-like phalanges latching onto him but the force of the impact saw Hit’s feet sliding against the floor before he could properly hold his position. And even then, his arms _shook_ with the force of trying to push back those terrifying claws that were open and ready to go for the face.

  
  


Hit’s tiny eyelights in his wide, wide sockets travelled over the shattered, dark, _psychotically_ angry face looming over him as if he were looking straight into the throat of an alligator, the realisation of the power he was facing dawning on him very quickly. Skull slowly pushed closer, the giant’s strength far outweighing Hit’s own, instilling your kidnapper with a growing fear you couldn’t miss. You could practically see the thoughts flash across his face; _who the hell is this guy?_ what _is this guy?!_

  
  


_“_ _ **you tried to take them away from me.”**_ Skull said, in a heavy, bottomless, echoing pit of a voice as his pinprick eyelight stared at Hit with the full intent to dust.

  
  


The ferocity you’d seen in his reaction to Frisk was _nothing._ This was _unhinged_ levels of rage.

  
  


Hit’s face twisted into the closest he could get to a determined one and he ducked down, attacking Skull in the chest with two of those same, precise punches that’d almost taken out Sans and Red. But Skull just stood there, grinning like a maniac, the punches bouncing off his ribcage with hollow dull thuds and barely making him move- Hit might as well have been punching a concrete wall.

  
  


Skull reached up, with reflexes so fast you felt like a sloth, and caught the third jabbing fist in his own monstrously large hand, swallowings Hit’s and suddenly making it look so _small._ He never once took his eye off your kidnapper.

  
  


Hit blanched, several realisations apparently landing at once, and he quickly tried (in vain) to yank his hand away.

  
  


_How’s it feel to not be able to pull your arm away from someone stronger, fucker?_ You thought, knowing for a fact your schadenfreude was well earned. _Feels terrifying, doesn’t it?_

  
  


Hit, in a desperate attempt to make _any_ kind of definite impact, pulled his other arm down and punched Skull directly in the jaw from underneath. It impacted from below and jolted Skull’s head to face upward- you gasped in horror, a tiny sound, covering your mouth, and you felt Red tighten behind you...

  
  


...

  
  


... A breath of pause.

  
  


...

  
  


Skull looked down, slowly, neck joints audibly popping, eyelight completely gone.

  
He was still grinning.

  
  


...

  
  


He punched Hit square in the jaw.

  
  


A _crunching_ sound made both Red and Sans cringe back, but you couldn’t look away- Hit’s entire body was flung to the side by the force of the impact, Skull letting go of the captured fist like he was letting go of a mouse’s tail to let it scurry away and prolong its own suffering. Hit shouted out and went reeling, a visible _viscous_ crack now standing out on his cheekbone and adding to the myriad of scars.

  
  


_“that the best you can fucking do?”_ Skull hissed, advancing, rolling a huge shoulder.

  
  


... Red and Sans teaming up to the best of their abilities couldn’t last a few minutes against Hit...

  
  


... But here Skull was, holding his own like he was fighting a child.

  
  


You heard Sans running over to the machine, and you quickly joined him, pulling out of Red’s grip to rush over- Red followed behind and pushed through both of you to start typing furiously on the keyboard. You had no idea how he could make any sense of the words flying by, but you trusted him to do what he needed to do.

  
  


“shut the damn thing off!” Sans said; you didn’t miss how he was nursing his injured arm.

  
  


“... he’s locked it.” Red replied, typing faster, hitting what seemed to be an enter key and absorbing the code scanning past the screen. “it won’t close until someone goes through. smart bastard...”

  
  


Sans’s expression fell. “... you’re kidding. we’re gonna have to kill him?”

  
  


You could tell he didn’t want to kill a fellow Sans- kidnapper or not, was it really right to doom his entire universe? Were they really going to have to shoulder the burden of knowing they froze the lives of billions?

  
  


There was a scuffle, and you heard a snarl- you turned to look back at the brawl going on so close. Hit tried to break away from Skull and make a run toward the three of you fucking with his machine, but Skull latched onto this shirt and threw him violently to the ground with a heavy crash and a _furious_ growl; Hit’s eyelights went out and he rolled out of the way just in time to avoid a stomp aiming for his ribcage that instead powered into the floor, cracking the solid concrete as if it were a sheet of ice. Hit was dragged to his feet and thrown against the wall, a huge, thick hand wrapped around his neck as Skull’s grin twisted wider.

  
  


... Your mind was working so fast. You didn’t even want to think about how fast it was going- you knew the second you started to question it, you’d lose your streak and stop...

  
  


“... Which button activates it?” You asked, probably talking far too fast, looking at Red. He blinked, pausing for a moment... but he searched the board, and pointed to a large, white button next to the one Hit had pressed first.

  
  


“uh... that one.”

  
  


“Do you guys trust me?” Your heart started to pound in your throat.

  
  


“yes.” They both said, at once, but you could see in Sans’s expression an emotion you could only describe is as ‘why are they asking that what the fuck are they planning to do’.

  
  


“Go grab Skull.”

  
  


“sweetheart-” Red began, but you cut over him.

  
  


“Go to Skull! Please!”

  
  


... They glanced at each other, nervousness in their eyelights... but Sans nodded, once, secure, and they bolted past you to join him.

  
  


... You approached the panel, hoping to _everything_ that this somehow worked.

  
  


You took a long, deep breath.

  
  


...

  
  


“Skull! Grab onto the wall!”

  
  


... Skull turned to you, looking away from making Hit fear for his life, eyelight dilating like a camera lens opening. He saw your hand poised over the ever-so-important button, his jaw snapping shut.

  
  


“... what?”

  
  


You didn’t wait another moment.

  
  


You slammed the button with the bottom of your fist, and leapt across the room.

  
  


A flash of realisation passed over Skull’s face. He and Red immediately locked onto each other, gripping the other’s forearm, and Skull let go of Hit’s neck, instead moving to crush his immense claws directly into the concrete wall up to the second knuckle, curling them to hold on tighter, cracks in the stone appearing around his hand like lines in a shattered mirror.

  
  


... There was an echoing, _quaking_ boom that seemed to _suck_ back into the machine, like a jet breaking the sound barrier put in reverse.

  
  


_It was on. It was really on._

  
  


The noise shook you to your Soul, even as you leapt away, and you were vaguely aware of a flash of light behind you accompanied by a whirr that in an instant grew into a deafening roar- you reached out, a modicum of panic alighting in your chest as the possibility that you hadn’t jumped far enough surfaced. Everything seemed to go in slow motion-

  
  


-the gravity shifted around you in midair, your hair and clothes starting to pull toward the open gateway-

  
  


-Sans’s hand sealed with yours.

  
  


You gasped, looking up, eyes wide; Red had Sans securely by the back of the jacket, and Sans was grinning down at you in complete relief, second hand sealing around your wrist to hold you in place.

  
  


“i got you!”

  
  


“S-Sans!”

  
  


Your hair and loose ends of both your shirt and the guy’s hoodies started to whip wildly as the machine picked up in power, air rushing past your face and your very core starting to pull in it’s direction... it was like standing against the wind in the middle of a _hurricane._ You thanked whatever God there was for the guys’ insane strength; you didn’t even want to look behind you at the glowing maw that a few seconds ago had been dormant and still. You could see the light it was emitting casting on the wall that Skull was gripping onto, stark and unfriendly... Papers and blueprints that hung far too loosely fluttered violently, and ripped away from their foundations...

  
  


Your feet, firm on the floor, began to slide...

  
  


...

  
  


Something sealed around your other hand.

  
  


You screamed, stomach dropping, turning to look over your shoulder, feeling Sans’s grip tighten and vaguely hearing him shout something.

  
  


The gap between the pillars in the machine was glowing an intense white, like a doorway had opened into some kind of afterlife that was furiously attempting to suck you all into it. The roaring was so intense your head ached, hair whipping against your cheeks...

  
  


And silhouetting it was Hit, feet planted onto the ground like he was weathering a tornado, holding so tightly onto your forearm that you felt your whole body yanking toward him, his eyelights fierce and _desperate._ He was framed by flying papers, hand-drawn graphs and even his own discarded jacket swirling in the gale-like force, sucking directly into the gaping mouth of the machine where they vanished in a flash of cobalt blue... and he was clutching his lower ribs with his other hand. You didn’t even want to think about the injuries Skull had inflicted on him in the short time you weren’t looking.

  
  


“H-Hit!” You cried, needing to yell to be heard over the cacophony, trying to pull your arm away. “Please, l-let go!”

  
  


“did you mean it!?” He yelled back, sockets wide, the gold tooth flashing in the light.

  
  


You blinked- what could possibly be so important that he needed to know _now,_ when he was at risk of being pulled into the machine!? “Mean _what?!”_

  
  


“that i don’t love you!” He yelled. His face was smile-less... he suddenly looked almost _scared_ as he clung onto you. “that what i’m feelin’... i-it isn’t love!?”

  
  


“Y-yes!” You felt tears forming, pricking, hot. You barely had enough time to regret how things had happened. “I meant it!”

  
  


...

  
  


His expression hardened, and he yanked on your arm. You cried out, terrified, thinking he was trying to pull you in with him, trying to dislodge you from the others...

  
  


... He pulled himself up, so close

  
  


... and pressed a small kiss to your lips.

  
  


...

  
  


There was silence, for just a moment. The deafening roar of the machine, the screaming wind in your ears... it faded, for a few precious seconds.

  
  


You looked up, into Hit’s ever-so-close sockets, confused and frightened, feeling the tears overflowing from your eyes get sucked in the machine’s direction, forming little wet spots on his red shirt. His suddenly soft expression, the tiny scars littering his face, the new, long crack...

  
  


...

  
  


He smiled at you.

  
  


... And then he let go.

  
  


You weren’t sure why- but as his hand slipped off of you, your eyes locked with his... you reached out, as if to try and catch him.

  
  


... There was an almost _blinding_ flash of blue. The noise and clamour and commotion faded back in- you gasped shakingly, unaware that you had stopped breathing.

  
  


Three, loud chugs, like a cruise ship’s engine...

  
  


...

  
  


... And the white doorway vanished.

  
  


...

  
  


Hit was gone.

  
  


The papers that were less than a second away from joining him in his other dimension stopped, fluttering for a moment in the air, then slowly teeter-tottering back and forth to the ground. The gravity returned and your chest lurched, legs buckling underneath you, knees hitting the floor first.

  
  


...

  
  


Skull removed his hand from the wall with an audible crunch, collapsing onto his back.

  
  


Sans, still shaking with adrenaline and panting desperately, turned your face toward him with both hands, wiping away some of the spilling tears with his thumb. He then pressed your head against his sternum, smoothing down your hair with one hand.

  
  


“i-i got you.”

  
  


... Your fingers wove into the fabric of his hoodie. You let out a single, weak sob, one thought in your mind.

  
  


_I’m safe._

  
  


...

  
  


... You passed out.


	30. Iktsuarpok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And... breathe out.

_we missed you so bad._

...

...

... You couldn’t run.

No matter how hard you pushed, no matter how much you pulled and tried desperately... your legs couldn’t move from the spot they were in. It was like someone had super-glued the bottoms of your feet to the floor... like the carpet was gripping onto you with vicious hooks. You cried out, but no sound emerged... you knew exactly where you were, but at the same time, the room was formless, shifting, objects existing in places they shouldn’t... a huge bed and a chair, a machine looming so high above you it was impossible, blueprints and symbols and papers-

_“_ _**doll.”** _

A growl, powerful, deep, charged with anger and _desire._ You heard feet striding toward you, and two piercing red eyelights emerging from the twisting nowhere. You stumbled out of the invisible shackles around your feet, back flattening against a wall, crying again, but not even a croaked whisper came out; you had no way to voice your terror, no way to call for help.

You were pinned between him and the wall, no one was here to help you- an ice-cold hand stroked the side of your face and you could only screw your eyes shut and sob. But even through your eyelids, his eyelights burned, possessive, destructive-

“L-let go!” You begged. “No! No, please, I don’t want to go!”

_“they’re not like me.”_ He moved closer, gentle touch turning into a violent grip at the back of your head. You started to beat on his chest has hard as you could, kicking your restricted legs. _“not like me...”_  
  
“Don’t touch me-”

“w-wake up!”

... Your eyes shot open.

Instantly, you screamed, raw panic sealing around you like Hit’s cold hands, yanking your suddenly restrained wrists and shoving hard against the big, broad chest in front of you...

“i-it’s me, pumpkin! it’s me!”

...

Your vision focused in on the world that was _really_ around you, the rest of your senses slowly fading in too, body starting to realise that you weren’t in the dream... You lowered your hands, shivering, and whoever was holding onto them let go. The cold sweat on your brow, the churning nausea deep in your stomach, your pounding headache, the soft sheets you were lying on, the darkness of the room around you, the smell of snowy streams... and...

You inhaled as best you could, your throat tight, nose partially blocked... cautious and afraid, like an injured animal seeking a comforting scent.

... Snowy streams... and tangy iron...

... You looked up from the giant chest in front of you. All you could see was a red light... but a familiar red light, a pooled red light that made you hope.

You blinked away the tears blurring your vision.

... Skull looked pained. The only illumination in the room was the warm glow radiating from his slightly contracted eyelight... His face was so close to yours, you could see every crack and line and scar... even the one on the bottom of his jaw where...

... Where Hit...

...

Everything came flooding back. The machine, feeling so scared, Skull and Red and Sans saving you...

... You were okay. You were _safe._ _You were home._ The walls were yours, the ceiling was yours, the bedsheets were _yours,_ the smell, the sounds, the morning light peeking in from a gap in the closed curtains...

You performed what could only be described as a horizontal jump forward, sealing your arms around Skull’s neck and pressing your face into the of his shoulder, bursting into uncontrollable and _loud_ sobbing that wracked your whole body, only muffled by his shirt. He immediately responded, wrapping his own giant arms around your small frame, pressing a huge hand to the back of your head to pet it... gentle and comforting.

His smell was so wonderful, so safe; you buried your face into the soft fabric of his shirt and let the metal and snowy rivers wash away the cigarettes and petrichor that’d still been clawing at the remaining panicked corners of your mind. It picked up the trash, it swept up the fear, the shadows and eyes you couldn’t erase from your subconscious on your own were caught in the current and carried out of sight and mind.

He pulled his legs up a little to cocoon you properly, your own tiny human legs tangling with his- one between his femurs and the other hooked over his leg just above his hip. You clung to him, finally, _finally_ feeling safe enough to wail like a baby.

And he let you. He didn’t shush you, he didn’t try to talk you out of crying, he didn’t try to cheer you up. He just held you like you needed to be held and let you use his arms as a place to feel safe.

It took a while, but... your wailing eventually calmed, just weeping... weeping settled into sniffles... Skull ran his hand up and down your back as you shivered... and once your eyes started to ache and your throat started to feel hoarse, you took a deep, shaking breath and removed your head from his shoulder.

... You’d connected with Hit before, in dreams. You remembered now... waking up in the tent after spending the day at the beach with a vague memory of burning red eyelights and cold loneliness. But this time, you didn’t feel anything in your chest. No connection, no loneliness... He was gone for real.

...This time, what you’d seen... it’d been nothing more than a nightmare.

For a second you felt the wind from the machine’s vortex whipping through your hair and Hit’s lips on yours before he let go.

He let go. _Why_ did he let go? You rubbed your eyes- did you really get through to him that badly when you told him he didn’t love you? Had he spent this whole time thinking he was in love?

... And if it really _was_ such a wakeup call, why did that make him give up? He’d been willing to lie to you for weeks, he’d been willing to take on all three of your guys, he’d been willing to _shoot that monster in the head..._ all to force you to come back to his universe with him.

... Why was him not loving you such a game changer?

“... you ok now?” Skull asked, soft voice carrying you back into the present.

You sniffled, removing your hands from your sore eyes and nodded, feeling like a mess. Skull sighed and tucked some slightly damp hair from your face... before cupping it, gentle and warm.

“...i’m sorry. you were crying and shaking, i had to wake you.”

“It’s ok.” You put your hand over his, nuzzling into his palm a little. “I’d rather be awake right now.”

The small gesture of affection seemed to mean more to him than you could possibly ever know- voice was small and fragile when he spoke. “... i-i’m so glad you’re ok.”

You shut your eyes. “I’m so glad I got to watch you beat the shit out of him.”

He laughed, small, and pressed his forehead against yours. You felt so weak, your head was pounding, your eyes were sore and your arms were jelly, but...

... It felt so good to be cuddled up to Skull. Someone you knew would do anything to keep you out of harm’s way.

Your big, cuddly bear.

...

Skull snorted a little. You opened your eyes again- he was staring at you (so close the light from his eyelight was twinkling in your own eyes) and sported a small grin, a dusting of blue working it’s way up his face.

“... bear?” He said, incredulously.

...

You started to go pink. _Whoops._ “I-I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

His grin widened, sockets creasing at the corners.

“pf... s’okay. i like it. ... i’ll be your bear.”

... He got another cuddle for that.

...

Once he decided you were better, Skull brought you out of the dark room, a steadying hand on your back the whole time as your heavy but less-than-tired eyes adjusted to the lights. He led you over to the couch and sat you down, disappearing for a few moments to come back with a hot drink which you took gratefully, your throat begging for something liquid to soothe it.

He sat next to you, slowly, so you wouldn’t be bounced and spill your drink. You took a sip and sighed, happy... it was sweet, a touch of honey.

You faintly remembered your injuries- the long cuts Hit had inflicted. You reached under your shirt collar with your free hand to touch the back of your shoulder... only to feel smooth, scarless skin.

“... i healed them, they weren’t too deep.” Skull mumbled. “m’ sorry about your shirt. it got shredded. ... did... did _he_ make those cuts?”

You nodded, sighing. “... Was an accident. I was running and he reached out to grab me- missed and caught my back with his phalange tips.”

“... kiddo?”

... You looked up from your drink. Sans had just walked into the room, his hand on the door frame- shadows under his sockets attesting to his lack of sleep.

...

Skull barely just got your drink off you before Sans teleported across the room and grabbed you in a crushing hug; you reached up and closed your arms around his neck as his own fastened around your middle, sinking into him like he was made of foam. There was nothing quite like Sans’s pine smell. He held you tight for a few moments, before pulling back to press a determined and unafraid kiss to your forehead, a short, shaking breath escaping his chest.

“don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again.” He mumbled against your skin, before pulling back completely, hands on your shoulders. “i’m never letting you go anywhere without one of us again.”

“I don’t think I _want_ to go anywhere without you again.” You said.

Sans made a sound of agreement, sitting on your other side, and Skull passed you back your drink which you took another grateful sip of. But even as you sat still, looking around at the apartment you were so familiar with... it felt strange to be back as if nothing had happened. As if, a few hours earlier, you weren’t agreeing to the whims of a madman with a gun to someone’s head.

“... so...” Sans looped an arm around your shoulders. “... i booked a nice holiday for tomorrow.”

... You blinked, and looked at him properly, slightly confused. “... A... holiday?”

“a nice b&b cabin for a couple of nights.” He seemed better already just being next to you. “just us... so we can all unwind, nothing drastic. and if you wanna go home at any time we can just take you straight home, alright?”

... You nodded. ... You didn’t really feel any strong emotion right now; you felt like your whole body had been (in its exhaustion) temporarily sapped of it’s ability to feel elated.

Sans moved his hand up to pet your hair as a moment of silence descended where you just finished your warm drink. You noted to yourself that both he and Skull petted your hair... not that you were complaining. Any touch from them felt comforting at the moment.

...

You didn’t notice it at first, but... slowly, creeping up on you like an illness... your tongue felt heavy and your chest squeezed, your eyes started to well with new tears and your grip around the mug became tight and shaky as you tried to swallow down sobs that arose seemingly out of nothing.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, overwhelmed, breaking into a fit of tears. Without a word, Sans used his hand’s position on your head to gently guide you to lean on him; Skull petted your shoulder, supporting and gentle.

“I-I thought I could...” You choked. “I-I thought I could _trust_ him. ... H-he was so nice to me, he rescued me from some drunk _assholes_ and I thought, I thought he... I don’t get _why...”_

“... listen, kiddo.” Sans said, his voice the softest you’d ever heard it. “... it’s not your fault. some people aren’t used to not getting what they want. he wanted you, and you wanted to stay. so he had to force the situation. it’s not you, none of it was you.”

... You nodded against his chest, but... you didn’t feel like that was true. You should’ve said something, you should’ve seen the warning signs... you shouldn’t have trusted a stranger, allured by the possibility of being the object of affection of someone so mysterious, so dangerous.

You sighed.

... The door sounded. Gentle, and careful.

... A figure in the doorway. Pin-sharp red eyelights, a glimmering gold tooth.

_Hit._

You immediately went into panic mode, and you scrabbled back into Skull, the empty mug falling out of your hands and bouncing onto the carpeted floor. Your throat constricted and your whole body flooded with a terrified cold numbness- h-he was here, how was he here, you saw him go, g-get _away-!_

... A breath passed.

...

... It was Red standing in the doorway. A shopping bag of items in one hand, his other on the door frame. Wearing his black shirt...

... And a look of badly concealed despair at your reaction.

“... Red,” you breathed.

...

He covered it up, smiling like nothing was wrong, apparently relieved and happy to see you.

“I-”

“... s’good to see you, sweetheart.” He said, seemingly carefree. He lifted up his bag of items- you could see through the thin plastic that it was various snacks and drinks, possibly for the journey to the cabin Sans mentioned. “i’m, uh... gonna go put this stuff away.”

“R-Red-”

Too late. He vanished, and you heard noises in the kitchen; rustling, a cupboard door opening. Your heart sank and you moved to get to your feet- Skull put a hand on your shoulder, gentle, encouraging (softly pushing) you back onto your butt.

“it’s ok.” He said, carefully plucking the cup from the carpet. The mug you had to hold with both hands he could hold by the rim between his thumb and index phalanges. “you just got back. emotions are high. focus on relaxing, i’ll talk to him.”

He nodded to Sans, getting up from his seat, the couch cushions returning to their normal position and rocking you in the other direction. You watched him go into the kitchen and shut the door behind him, feeling dizzy and sick and slightly teary... but Sans’s arm around you calmed you down a little.

“just rest up, okay?” He said. You swallowed, upset... but obliged, leaning into him, allowing him to turn on the TV and readjust your blanket.

... At least it was nice that they were finally trusting each other enough to leave you in the company of another skeleton.

\---

You woke lying down on the couch, cuddled up against Sans’s side, your head on his chest and his arm still around you, rubbing your forearm. He was watching the TV intently- engrossed in some old astrophysics documentary rerun that you couldn’t keep your eyes on without feeling stupid.

... You shut your eyes again, enjoying being snuggled close to him, smiling to yourself at how jealous your past self would be if you saw this. It would’ve been nice to skip the whole... traumatising kidnapping part... but at least you got what you wished for in the end, right?

Eventually, however, you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom, your need to pee overpowering your need to lose yourself in his sweet pine scent. He was almost as unwilling to let you go but you convinced him you’d be right back, so you clambered over him to get to the bathroom.

You yawned, while walking... You’d napped so much today that you were certain you weren’t going to sleep tonight. There were voices in the boys’ room and you paid them no mind, heading to the bathroom to pee.

... It was only on your way out that you noticed something weird.

... The voices stopped as you opened the bathroom door, entering into the hallway.

...

You made sure to loudly step through the hall... and to open and close your bedroom door, hand tight on your doorknob, heart starting to beat in your throat. A few seconds passed and the voices started up again... You walked back across the landing, avoiding all the creaky floorboards out of instinct until you came up to the boys' door. Quietly as possible... you crouched down, peeping through the slit between the door and the frame.

... Were you being paranoid? Perhaps. But you had good reason to, considering what had happened to you. You quieted your tumbling thoughts and listened.

“... ot afraid of you.” Skull’s voice became audible through the wood first. You could just about make him out, sat on the bed, hunched a little, staring up at a pacing Red. Would he notice you staring? You hoped not.

“you saw their face when i walked in.” Red replied. Their voices were both low, controlled... cautious.

“it’s not you they're scared of.” Skull reiterated, stare fixed. “it’s him.”

Red turned to Skull fully, his back to you, making some kind of gesture with his hands. “we can’t sit here and pretend i don’t look exactly like him.”

“that’s not their fault.”

“no, i-” his fist tightened, and his control over his voice almost slipped a little, lowering in volume as if he knew that his instinctive reaction was to yell. You had to strain to hear over the sound of the documentary going on in the other room. “skull i _know_ it’s not their fault. i’m not sayin’ it is, they were _kidnapped._ it’s him, it’s that _bastard,_ he did this, he...”

... A pause. Your knees were hurting from squatting down.

...

Red ran both his hands over his skull. “god, i’m just... that could’ve been _me.”_

... You blinked.

_What?_

“...” Skull sat up a little, eyelight shrinking into something like concern. “red.”

Red’s hands moved to cover his face, tone cracking. “you don’t get it, it... it was like lookin’ in a fuckin mirror when i saw him. and not just the face, he... that was _me_ right there. the me that came through the machine, the me before i met you two, before they opened me up. i looked him dead in the sockets and i fuckin’ _knew_ i would’ve... if they hadn’t...”

He removed his hands from his face. Your breath caught- you _wished_ you could’ve seen his face. You wished you could’ve read him in that moment.

When he spoke again, his voice was so taught, so forcefully quiet you thought it might break. You thought _he_ might break. “... do you know what he said to me? before you showed?”

... Your heart rate suddenly picked up.

“he pulled me in an’ said _‘so what are you gonna do when he wants to send_ _ **you**_ _back?’”_

... You pressed a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from making a noise. You remembered it- you remembered Hit yanking Red close, you remembered seeing Hit’s lips move... you remembered the way Red’s eyelights extinguished in an instant, like Hit had pinched out a candle, leaving nothing but a wisp of smoke behind.

“he- he _knew_ what i was thinkin’.” Red continued. “that could’ve been me there. somethin’ as simple as not living under the same roof as you guys could’ve been the trigger, somethin’ stupid and small, a-and...”

His voice fractured... a hole in the dam. The moment it did, the moment Red staggered, Skull got up from his seat; he wrapped his arms around the smaller skeleton without a word.

And when Red spoke again, it was a cracked whisper. You swallowed- it felt so wrong to see him like that. So wrong to see him so scared, so upset.

“i-i could’ve been the one who _hurt 'em_ like that.”

... You couldn’t watch any more. You knew Skull would keep him company- you retreated from your spot by the door as quietly as possible, throat tight and eyes stinging, hand still pressed over your mouth.

He was so afraid of hurting you.

\---

...

...

Your bedroom door opened way past midnight.

Skull and Sans had been reluctant to let you be in a room on your own, still nervous after the... previous day’s events, but you convinced them to let you go to bed. Honestly, you couldn’t believe it’d only been a day... it already felt like months ago, a distant event. Safe in your apartment with the guys the kidnapping seemed... far away.

You were sat upright in bed, with the lamp off, waiting for him, face pensieve and worried. You’d tried to read to pass the time, or watch some Youtube videos, but you couldn’t concentrate on anything but Red’s voice when he’d admitted how he felt. You didn’t know why you were waiting, you didn’t even really expect him to show up after what you’d seen with Skull, you honestly thought he’d be too afraid to come to you in such a state of vulnerability and weakness.

... But there he was. Standing in your doorway, silhouetted, dressed in his black shirt and red pyjama pants... small red eyelights the only illumination in the room, fixed on you.

...

You couldn’t be afraid of him when he looked at you like that. There was something in his sockets that Hit never had- something in those shaky eyelights that you never saw in your kidnapper.

You didn’t know what, but... it was there. And it was comforting.

You just wished your immediate gut reaction to that shade of crimson felt the same way.

... It felt like an eternity between him opening your door and you reaching your arms up to gesture for him to hug you. In the darkness, in those hours between midnight and sunrise, everything seemed to pass in strange ways. The smallest of moments stretched out into hours of silence filled with nothing but the sound of soft breathing and the feeling of your heart in your ribcage.

He didn’t waste time. He shut the door behind him, silent, and crossed the room- he didn’t press you impossibly close like Skull, you didn’t fall into him like Sans.

... He just... slipped in next to you, and wound his arms around your middle to pull you down to him, hiding his face by tucking yours up to his shoulder.

You shuffled closer, bringing your hands up to ball in his shirt. You felt like you could get lost in his smokey scent... not the acrid, acidic cigarette kind of smoke you’d grown to fear; the _bonfire._ Sitting around a campfire at night, watching the embers crack away from the logs and drift upward toward the stars- the cold threatening to nip at your extremities but fought away by the warmth radiating from the gentle flames.

You shut your eyes. ... There’d always been something different about Red, from the very start. Something behind the face. You knew since your date with him to the cinema that felt like so very long ago; you could sit between Skull’s legs without a reaction, but you couldn’t sit next to Red without feeling your heart start to pound.

... Was it the fact that the other two were always honest? Sans was Sans, your lovable goofball who sometimes got too patient... he’d opened up to you. Skull was Skull, scary and confused but ultimately sweet and wanted nothing more than to be loved, blunt to a fault with his feelings.

... and Red?

Red was still so _afraid_ of loving and losing.

...

... Another breath stretched out into an hour.

...

“what did he call you?” Red said, his voice a whisper.

“... Hm?”

“his nickname for you.” His phalange traced your spine. “what was it?”

...

“... Doll.” You replied, not moving from your position tucked against him. “... He called me doll.”

... Neither of you needed to speak.

You both knew Red was never going to say that word again.

...

... He was shaking. You could feel it- his shoulders were quivering, and his grip on your body had increased ever-so-slightly. You blinked, pushing away a little to see his face.

...

He was crying.

His eyelights were miniscule dots, fixed on you. Small, red tears were pooling at the corners of his sockets and streaking down his face.

... What?

“... Red?” You said, voice confused, and maybe a little panicked, bringing up your hands from his chest- one settled on his shoulder and the other pressed against his cheekbone.

The shaking got worse when your hand made contact with his cheek. His eyelights flickered back and forth between your eyes, the tears getting faster, his breathing more and more fragile.

Red never cried. Red _never_ cried. You pulled him closer to you, pressing his face against your chest.

“Shh, shh...”

“i don’t want t-to cry.” He was falling apart, softly, right in front of you, his sockets crinkling at the corners and his walls crumbling as each second passed, as each tear rolled across his cheekbone. “please, i ha-ate it, i don’t wan-na cry...”

... He forced in a breath, chest rising, unable to let go of your shirt. His voice was barely together, fractured and whispery.

“... i’m sorry. i-i shouldn’t be... you w-were the one who got kidnapped... i shouldn’t...”

You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t know what else to _say..._ Red was _crying._ It felt like comforting a child who didn’t want to be seen upset... didn’t want to be seen being weak.

You hugged his skull as he gripped your middle. “... It’s okay, Red. It’s okay to cry.”

“i-it’s _not.”_ He sobbed, muffled. “i’m no-ot supposed to be _weak,_ i-i’m... th-they’re gonna...”

...

You shuffled back a little. He tried to squeeze tighter for a moment, panicked, but you slipped your hands just under his jaw, holding his face delicately so you could turn it up to face you. He blinked, more tears escaping from his sockets no matter how much he wanted them to stop.

“...” You slid your hands up to cup his cheekbones. “It’s not weak to cry.”

“you’re just _sayin’_ that.” He whispered, tiny. You could tell he wanted it to be true, he _wanted_ it to be okay to cry. “you’re the only one who th-thinks like that. j-just sayin’ it ain’t gonna make anyone else think it’s true.”

... You kissed his forehead, shuffling down so that the two of you were eye level again.

  
“Well. I think so.” You stroked his skull. “And it’s just me.”

...

... His sockets relaxed as if strings holding them open had been cut, eyelights slowly dilating from frightened pinpricks into those gentle orbs you knew so well... A fresh wave of tears spilled out; he returned the face holding gesture, tucking some stray hair out of your face, giant hand faintly shaking, just like his shoulders.

... He smiled. Small, wobbly. But still a smile.

“... just you.”

\---

No one elected to comment on Red coming out of your room with you when Sans knocked on your door to wake you up. Everyone was too relieved to have you back to question how much time the others were spending with you, or who you were clinging to.

Sans had borrowed Undyne’s large car (after promising to bring it straight back), the same one you all made the journey to the beach in. The cabin Sans had booked was a new location and he had to visit it first before he could teleport back and forth, making driving necessary.

There was enough space for all of you to sit in your own seat, but... you found yourself moving to the middle and putting your bag of clothing on the empty window seat, just so you could lean on Skull and have his huge arm around you. Red took the passenger side and Sans settled into driving, doing so without complaint (you were usually the one who drove whenever Sans couldn’t teleport but due to obvious reasons you wanted to stay in the back).

The hours phased into each other, scenery sailing by, Skull’s arm around you and your head resting up against him. A few times your eyes closed and you were certain you must’ve passed out, waking up with your legs reclined over your bag of clothes and your head in Skull’s lap, seatbelt clip digging into your hip.

The radio stayed on, gently... sometimes it would flicker between songs when Red or Sans wanted to change the music but generally it remained on one station, cycling between various popular songs with the occasional gem sprinkled in.

...

“Sans?” You asked, your voice breaking the silent spell that’d been cast over the interior of the car. Sans’s eyelights flickered over to you in the rearview mirror for a moment, questioning- Red’s skull perked up at the sound of your voice.

“How... How _do_ you teleport?” You sat up a little, neck hurting from the weird leant position on Skull. Large trees sailed past the window. “I’ve never really asked. I’ve just kinda... known you could.”

... His eyelights drifted back to the road again, a short ‘hm’ in the back of his throat your only confirmation. He glanced at Red, then back to the road in front. “... i’m not sure how to explain it, really.”

“... s’kinda like openin’ a door, i think?” Red chimed in, voice soft on your tired ears. “but that analogy falls apart in some places. you know what’s gonna be on the other side of door in yer house, right?”

“Mhm.”

He turned a little to look at you over his shoulder. “goin’ somewhere you know... you picture what’s on the other side of the door. the layout of the room, where the ceilin’ is, how large the room is, furniture... shit like that. you know the door is unlocked so you reach out and grab the handle, and kinda...” he made a push motion, “fall through to the other side. the void is the space between.”

“... yeah. yeah, like that.” Sans nodded, changing gears to overtake. “but if you don’t know what’s on the other side you don’t know what you’re opening the door to. knowing is like having the key in your hand. the same location can have more than one way to get there in the way that a single room can have multiple doors... some doors are interconnected, some change places, you can even change them yourself if you know what you’re doing. you can bring a few people through a door with you at once but the amount of people you can bring through depends on the size and position of the door.”

“if ya try to force open a closed door something could go very wrong on the other side. we teleported without knowing into that bastard’s basement because we were willing to take the risk.”

...You nodded.

“i teleported into a tree, once.” Skull added, quietly. “whole lower half of my body.”

The other two chuckled, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile too at the mental image of Skull sticking out of a tree.

“sometimes, passing through the void can go wrong.” Red shrugged. “but the void itself, it... it’s an infinite door. teleporting into and out of the void is dangerous because if you reach out in even _slightly_ the wrong direction you could end up halfway across the solar system, or even in another reality.” He relaxed a little into the seat. “it’s best to only ever use the void like a train tunnel that you pass through.”

... Your head hurt a little. This was a lot of information. “... The void is... an infinite door?”

... Red and Sans looked at each other, brows furrowing, both apparently trying to think of a way to explain it that you would understand. You supposed it would be kind of like trying to explain an action as instinctive as walking- it just... _happens,_ so explaining the process to someone who didn’t know what it was like is something you’d struggle to do .

... Skull spoke up again, turning his head to face you. “... picture you’re standing right under a door frame. exactly underneath.”

You cocked your head. “... Yeah?”

“technically,” he gestured back and forth with a hand. “the door goes both ways, right? since you’re not on either side.”

... You nodded, starting to understand slightly.

“that’s the void.” He started to play with some of your hair mid-explanation, as if using the physical contact to maintain focus. “s’ the empty space between everything. ... it, in and of itself, is the gap. every side of you, every angle... it’s all doors.”

...

“Wow.” You breathed.

“... that’s... probably the best analogy i’ve ever heard for the void.” Sans said, sockets in the rearview mirror round with mild surprise, voice containing an edge of admiration.

“s’a bonus of literally talkin’ to yerself, i suppose.” Red commented, which caused another small round of chuckles.

... Your eyes widened. “... Could... could you guys teleport as babies?”

That launched them into several childhood stories that lasted the rest of the car ride.


	31. Birdsong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling in for a well-earned break.

_i want to stay like this forever._

  
  


The cabin wasn’t anything large, just the two floors, the exterior made of long and well-cared-for logs of the same colour as the large, vertical pines surrounding it in all directions. It was situated at the end of a lane that the large car did _not_ agree with, and reacted to by bouncing in pretty much every direction (making you feel like you were on the back of a particularly furious bull). The cabin had a sweet little veranda covered partially by the overhanging roof, with a small outdoor table accompanied by some wooden chairs that you immediately knew Skull wouldn’t fit on.

  
  


The interior was even cuter than the exterior- that same, homey, textured log walls and ceiling, a honey-like tint to the place. The kitchen and lounge were downstairs in one big room, with the bedrooms and bathroom upstairs; to save space, the upstairs only took up half the ceiling, a large wooden railing stopping anyone from toppling straight from the first floor to the couch. The carpets were faux animal fur and the wifi was relatively strong.

  
  


... You immediately felt at ease. This was the kind of cabin where you could picture yourself being snowed in- and loving every moment of it.

  
  


Red gave you a slight nudge to break you out of your admiration of the place. Sans _certainly_ knew how to pick his BnBs. “we’re all used to sharin’. it’ll be preeetty weird to have a room to myself.”

  
  


Pf... You knew what _that_ meant. You raised your brows at him, nudging back. “No sneaking into my room unless you know for certain I’m fully clothed.”

  
  


“yer just out here to spoil my fun, ain’tcha?”

  
  


You giggled, and his shoulders relaxed significantly, sockets softening. He definitely seemed less on edge than yesterday. The two of you climbed the stairs together, and you straightened your bag on your shoulder- it really sucked that you still felt a gut reaction of fear when you didn’t know he was there, but... after what you’d heard (and especially after having him cry on you for however many minutes he did) it was getting easier and easier to immediately distinguish him from...

  
  


... The _other_ him.

  
  


Red claimed a room, and you took the one furthest from the top of the stairs- a small, neat bedroom with a sloped ceiling and a twin-sized bed against the wall. It smelled piney, safe, comforting; you let your bag fall from your arm onto the floor, crossing the bare floorboards to unlock and push open the single window.

  
  


... You sighed, filling your lungs with the fresh, sweet air... you were unused to inhaling deeply and not getting _some_ city-related stink hitting the back of your nostrils.

  
  


... You were also unused to the silence. You rested your arms on the sill and stared out into the woods, at the leaf-carpeted earth, pausing... no cars, no planes... not even any people. In some ways it was slightly ominous, but in others you kind of _preferred_ it.

  
  


Perhaps you were never meant to live in the city. Moving into a cabin in the woods sounded like an ideal life at the moment. You and Sans had jokingly talked to each other about moving into the middle of nowhere together and becoming cryptids... he never mentioned it again, but maybe a part of that wasn't a joke for you?

  
  


...

  
  


... You spotted something around the back of the house.

  
  


...

  
  


“Sans!” You shouted, turning away from the window and darting out of your room. He was stood outside the bedroom he’d claimed, blinking at you, hand on the doorknob- probably instinctively readying for an incident at the sound of you yelling.

  
  


“Sans, you never mentioned we had an _outdoor hot tub_ here!”

  
  


... His momentarily confused (and concerned) expression melted into amusement with a dash of relief. “... wanted to surprise you.”

  
  


“But I didn’t pack my swimming stuff! I didn’t _know...”_

  
  


Sans winked, vanishing into thin air with a small crackle of magic. A few seconds passed before he returned, throwing your two-piece in your general direction; you caught it messily, clutching it to your chest and grinning at him, bouncing on your feet.

  
  


“i’ll join you in a minute." He said, smiling. "gotta get settled in.”

  
  


You didn’t waste any time, heading straight to the small bathroom to get changed and tie your hair up. A hot tub was _exactly_ what you needed right now... somewhere to sit down, somewhere specifically _designed_ to get you to relax.

  
  


You went out a big sliding glass door onto a deck outside, the chill air nipping at your exposed body. The hot tub was a normal sized one, clearly able to sit four, the exterior matching the wood of the walls, set on the corner of the deck with no roof over it- it was covered by a wide wooden cap secured with small clips. You tried your best not to rush yourself when removing it. The interior of the tub was white, and smooth... you could already see the hot steam rising off of the crystal blue water.

  
  


Your foot went in first. Immediately, a shiver ran up the length of your body, the nerves in your skin setting alight... it was so _warm._ You pressed on, swinging your other leg over the side, pushing yourself off the edge and slowly slipping into the tub, letting the hot, _hot_ water rise up your thighs, belly (when it touched your waist your whole body broke out into goosebumps), chest... right up to your shoulders. You slid your butt into a neat little groove on the smooth hot tub seat.

  
  


...

  
  


You let out a long, _long_ deep sigh, closing your eyes completely, the almost-boiling water encasing your body. You were right- it was exactly what you needed. Every inch of you below your neck was submerged, relaxed... You flexed your fingers and toes, momentarily wondering how hot the water actually was. You didn’t care either way, it was just perfect.

  
  


...

  
  


The only sound was not-so-distant birdsong.

  
  


...

  
  


You realised, as your mind cleared of the day’s events, finger tracing the seat of the hot tub under the warm water... that at least for a little while, you’d been successfully distracted from thinking about...

  
  


... _him._

  
  


...

  
  


You wanted to sigh again but your lungs were feeling too relaxed to expand that far.

  
  


_Hit._ Not ‘him’. Might as well get used to his name again; even if just the word made you feel sick with a mix of nerves and mild panic.

  
  


You could see him, on the back of your eyelids- his calm expression as his lips parted from yours, those last few moments as he vanished into the doorway...

  
  


... How long were his burning eyelights going to be seared into your mind?

  
  


A small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he made it back okay. If his universe had restarted now that he was home. You trusted that the guys knew what they were doing when they sent him away- and Sans had looked pretty shaken at the thought of freezing someone’s universe permanently.

  
  


... Petrichor... Cigarette smoke...

  
  


...

  
  


_“... dance with me?”_

  
  


He’d been so nice. So caring.

  
  


_“you look breathtaking.”_

  
  


Your brow furrowed slightly, chest tightening. The birdsong was fading out.

  
  


_“god, you’re different. different in the best way, i just...”_

  
  


You were so _sure_ that he was good, so sure that he...

  
  


_“come home with me.”_

  
  


... Did... did he feel something? Something real?

  
  


_“come home with me.”_

  
  


Something he just didn’t know how to deal with healthily?

  
  


_“promise me that you won’t tell your sans that i’m here.”_

  
  


...

  
  


... God, how gullible _were_ you?

  
  


... When you felt the memories closing in on you like thick mud swallowing you on all sides you opened your eyes, the sounds and feelings clearing like a TV being turned off.

  
  


...

  
  


You looked upward at the bright sky, slightly obscured by reaching tree branches, like a white-blue canvas covered in long dashes of ink.

  
  


... A sound that wasn’t birds.

  
  


You glanced over- _Skull_ was getting in the hot tub next to you.

  
  


You didn’t even sit up (too relaxed), you just smiled at him; he was wearing swimming trunks, but he still had a shirt over his upper body... a mid-tone grey. You supposed he was a little self conscious about his ribcage being on display for everyone to see.

  
  


Skull pretty much just stepped over the same edge you had to almost _vault_ over to get in, careful, disturbing the surface. He lowered himself in, slowly... letting out a small breath as the water closed over him.

  
  


He seemed relaxed, sliding down in his seat a bit. You noted with some hilarity that the water that was over your shoulders only just came halfway up his _chest._

  
  


... You didn’t hesitate to shuffle right up and lean on him. He tucked an arm around you, gratefully, his huge femur gently bumping your leg.

  
  


“Hey bear.” You said, voice only just above a whisper, calm and quiet.

  
  


“... hey pumpkin.” He said, deep voice reverberating through his ribs against your cheek.

  
  


... Huh. There it was again. ‘Pumpkin’... had Skull finally decided on a pet name for you? Sans used kiddo, Red used sweetheart, and Skull used pumpkin?

  
  


...

  
  


You liked that. You liked that a lot.

  
  


... This time, when you shut your eyes, you weren’t assaulted by memories of Hit. It was just you and Skull.

  
  


...

  
  


You almost chuckled to yourself. It stood to reason that Skull’s pet name for you would be food based...

  
  


He spoke. “hey, uh...”

  
  


“Hm?” You turned your head upward a little to look into his eyelights.

  
  


...

  
  


He leant down, and kissed you. His kiss was slightly clumsy, bony lips softly pushing against yours, huge hand moving around underwater to rest on your knee.

  
  


You blinked.

  
  


... And relaxed, eyes closing.

  
  


... He wasn’t as... ‘good’ as Red. No, ‘good’ was the wrong word... _experienced?_ Yeah, that’s it. He clearly wasn’t as experienced. Despite being the instigator he felt almost afraid to move too fast, large mouth making its best effort to meet with yours around his giant teeth without making things awkward.

  
  


But God, there was so much _feeling_ behind it. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something in the slow, cautious way he moved, every touch feather-light and almost reverent... you felt butterflies in your stomach, tingles in your skin, aware of nothing but the gentle way his lips pressed against you, warm and patient and coaxing.

  
  


You let out a tiny gasp when something hot and wet and tasting faintly of iron swiped across your bottom lip. That was his _tongue..._ You didn’t realise you’d pulled away slightly in surprise until Skull ‘chased’ you, leaning in again and capturing your lips, hand coming out of the water to cup your bright pink face as he started to gain some confidence and traction, figuring out how to fit you against him like a tiny puzzle piece. His tongue snaked in and met with yours, excited, and your heart thumped against your chest...

  
  


... A small, purr-like growl filtered out of his ribs.

  
  


...

  
  


... He seemed to hesitate. His tongue pulled back and he broke away, and when you blinked your eyes open, you were inches away from an eyelight blown so wide it almost filled his entire socket.

  
  


You realised, now that you’d parted, that you’d all but forgotten to breathe.

  
  


“... Skull?” You asked, panting softly.

  
  


...

  
  


“s-sorry.” He removed his hand from your face, stroking it once before letting the limb fall back under the water with a slight ripple. “... was... could feel myself slipping.”

  
  


...

  
  


“i-i’m not very...” He began, a small drop of sweat appearing on his cranium, eyelight shrinking a little. “th-that was my first proper...”

  
  


... Your hand moved up to rest on his shoulder. “... It’s okay. It was amazing.”

  
  


... His nervousness faded like mist in the wind, and he smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “just... wanted to do it for real. our other kiss was... well...”

  
  


Your hand moved from his shoulder to his cheekbone. “It wasn’t you.”

  
  


... He pressed his hand over yours, turning his face a little to nuzzle into your palm, savouring the contact. “... especially wanted to after that scare. i wanted to get a real kiss. one we both wanted.”

  
  


... Fuck, Skull was so cute.

  
  


... You remembered, with a note of pride for him, when Skull speaking more than one full sentence in a day was considered talkative of him. Words had always been a struggle for him... but he’d really gained a lot of verbal confidence during his time with you and the other guys.

  
  


“... You’re so much more talkative now.” You said, smiling.

  
  


... His eyelight dilated, that wonderful ultramarine blush spreading over his cheekbones in slight embarrassment. You felt a pleasant, radiating warmth through your contact with his face on your palm.

  
  


You chuckled. “That’s a good thing. I love your voice.”

  
  


He responded to that by drawing you close to him with a giant hand on your shoulder blade, nestling his face into the hair at the top of your head and letting out a sigh so deep the water rippled.

  
  


... You played with the collar of his shirt as he enjoyed your locks, the top of the item of clothing still determinedly dry. Your heart was still fluttering from the kiss, stomach only just settling down... you were slightly disappointed he stopped but you couldn’t be mad at him if that was what he thought was right. He’d been so gentle, and yet so passionate and so _loving..._ when he gained confidence and started to chase... even just thinking about it made your face hot and the butterflies inside you start to shake their wings.

  
  


...

  
  


... For a moment, in your mind’s eye, you saw the single blood red eyelight the size of a pinprick, you heard the voice that was such a bottomless void of hatred that in any other context it would’ve left you petrified with terror.

  
  


... The Skull you saw attacking Hit... it was almost hard to believe that it was the same person who kissed you like you were made of glass, who gave you those nervous butterflies.

  
  


Like. _Shit._ You knew he was strong, but he almost _destroyed_ Hit.

  
  


...

  
  


Was it bad that the thought made you smile? Again... well-earned schadenfreude, right?

  
  


“... s’cuse me lovebirds.” A familiar voice said. You looked up- Red was getting into the tub next to Skull. His broad, thick ribcage and shoulders were out on display again; you swallowed, cheeks warming significantly as he settled into the hot water, letting out a soft groan, the water rising up his bones and to his chest.

  
  


... He looked at you and winked, catching you off guard. “enjoyin’ the view?”

  
  


... You covered your face in half-shame half-embarrassment while turning to hide in Skull's chest, and heard him snicker to himself, all too proud of your reaction. With your eyes covered you didn’t notice Red giving Skull a little proud nudge with his elbow, Skull’s cheekbones flushing upon realising just what Red was congratulating him for.

  
  


Sans joined shortly after, settling in next to you- you turned to him and gave him a little grin, happy to have your small buddy back. He was the only other person who had the water level coming up to anywhere above his chest.

  
  


...

  
  


“Hey, Sans?” You asked, watching him sink into the water a bit more. They all deserved a break.

  
  


“hm?”

  
  


“... What’d you guys do with Hit’s machine?”

  
  


“destroyed it.” He replied, simply, sockets closing as he enjoyed the heat. The shimmer from the rising steam made his eyelights dance a little before they were covered by his eyelids. “and hid the pieces. couldn’t risk it falling into the wrong hands, ‘specially considering his connections.”

  
  


“... Ah. Alright.” You hummed, allowing that worry to vanish. You had a few other questions, but... honestly, right now? You couldn’t be bothered to ask anything else. You knew your questions would have long answers requiring a lot of explanations and probably their fair share of difficult analogies... how else were they going to get you to understand how one of their machines worked? Let alone how Hit’s differed from theirs.

  
  


...

  
  


You looked around at them. Red and Skull leaning on each other without worry, Sans with his sockets shut and a lazy smile on his face.

  
  


... It felt... calm. Warm, safe.

  
  


Far less...

  
  


... Competitive.

  
  


You knew they all still wanted you, but... there wasn’t a hierarchy anymore. They weren’t butting heads like a bunch of furious buffalo competing for time with you and doing their best to sabotage each other. Everyone was getting their moments- everyone was happy to share, happy to be a weird spooky little family. After that Hit fiasco they trusted each other to no end... Red and Skull clearly had a level of friendship that existed outside their relationship with you and the thought made you so happy for them.

  
  


Right now, it was healthy and relaxing. Everyone just wanted things to be how they were.

  
  


(... with maybe a little more smooching.)

  
  


... You tried your hardest not to, but... not falling asleep was impossible. At some point one of the guys had turned on the bubble feature and the sound of the rolling water combined with the way it massaged you all over meant within the half hour you were slumped against Skull’s side, unconscious, in a sleep that was, thankfully, dreamless.

  
  


\---

  
  


“... they out?” Red asked, turning off the bubble feature. The boiling surface of the water gradually calmed, the hot tub’s contents now a slightly opaque seafoam blue from the tiny bubble particles left over.

  
  


“... yeah.” Sans replied, when you didn’t move, cheek pressed up against Skull’s upper ribs, breathing coming out in slow, almost snore-like sounds.

  
  


“christ, they deserve it. c’mon, just get them dried off and into bed. can use some of those towels.”

  
  


Skull hooked one arm under your knees and gently braced a huge hand on your back, lifting you as gently as possible into a princess carry before standing up. Water dripped off you- down your legs, off your fingertips, back into the tub... but you stayed asleep and limp, head against Skull’s clavicle.

  
  


None of them had mentioned it to you, but you’d _really_ looked like crap the previous day. White as a sheet, dark circles under your eyes, messy hair, smelling of fear and sweat and tears... generally dishevelled and paranoid. And just after they’d rescued you you’d been even worse, littered in scabbed injuries and bruises, so many negative emotions leaking out of you it was like trying to sort through a cloud of wild stinging insects.

  
  


And although right now, you still had those telltale marks... dark circles and clear moments where your mind wandered... even just being out of the city made you look so much better than before.

  
  


“maybe we should all just move into the woods and be a weird cryptid family.” Sans said, passing Skull the largest of the towels the BnB provided. Skull readjusted you carefully and tucked the giant, fluffy white cover over you, gently rubbing your back to hopefully catch some of the dampness.

  
  


“that’d be fun.” Red chuckled, keeping his voice low. “not sure how long i’d last without any alcohol but it’d be an adventure to find out.”

  
  


“... i’ll take them to bed.” Skull said, also quiet.

  
  


“alright.” Sans grabbed a towel for himself, wrapping it around his ribcage. “i’ll go put the tub’s lid back on.”

  
  


Skull nodded, turning and heading up the stairs.

  
  


... It wasn’t until he was laying you down on the bed, wrapped in your towel, that he realised how strange what had just transpired downstairs was. He’d been holding you in his arms, and had elected to take you somewhere, to be somewhere _alone_ with you...

  
  


... And Sans was... perfectly fine with it.

  
  


He remembered when he first arrived and Sans would clearly be flipping his shit under his neat little facade whenever Skull was within arm's reach of you. Like when Skull had first discovered how soft your hair was, and how cute your heartbeat was... Sans was so clearly furious when he walked in he had literally displayed dominance right in front of you, absolutely willing to take the risk despite-

  
  


...

  
  


Skull’s lip pursed, eyelight contracting a bit.

  
  


... When was the last time any of them had tried to establish dominance?

  
  


He and Red had been friends (never thought he’d admit that to himself so easily) since the incident with the heats. He couldn’t say the same about Sans but they clearly completely trusted each other at this point.

  
  


...

  
  


He’d had his guard down so long he didn’t even realise he’d dropped it.

  
  


... Were they seriously just... peacefully coexisting?

  
  


Like a...

  
  


...

  
  


... Like a family?

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


He broke himself out of his thoughts by running his claws through your damp hair, realising he’d just been standing there over you like a huge creep. He smiled to himself, his Soul making that familiar warm hum it always made when he touched you- it’d been all but singing when he kissed you earlier. He was high on the relief of having you back, of having you safe.

  
  


... He gently bumped his teeth against your forehead in an instinctive gesture of skeleton affection, then shut your window, also making sure to check you had heating in your room and it was on. Didn’t want you getting a cold from sleeping while wet.

  
  


Skull turned off the light, and shut the door quietly... too busy making sure he was silent to notice the tiny smile on your face.


	32. Dance with me, darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to tropeville- population: this dumb bitch

You were always at your most confused when falling asleep and/or waking up- when you were _sleepy._ In that haze where your conscious brain was only _just_ deciding to give up the wheel for a while, you answered to your gut’s first response...

  
  


Did it help that you were tipsy? No. It didn’t.

  
  


You intended the small bottle of rum you’d packed in the bottom of your bag to be a gift for the guys; you know, something you all could pass between each other while sitting around a fire, or while outside under the night sky... you didn’t know if the sweet alcohol had the same faux-warming-effect on them as it did on you but you were willing to take a shot (hah, literally) and try it out.

  
  


You’d been lying in a BnB bed that felt _just_ not-quite-right, staring at the dark ceiling with the covers wrapped loosely around your body from where you’d tossed and turned. Your skin was prickled with cold but staying under the blanket for too long warmed you up far beyond what you were able to sleep under... well, either that, or you just couldn’t sleep at all and every little thing was making you uncomfortable. You’d just been chilling there for God knows how long, feeling the minutes slip by painfully slowly...

  
  


... And it was then that you’d had the _excellent_ idea of just having a ‘small sip’ of said alcohol. People had drinks to help them sleep, right? It was supposed to get you to sleep faster, or something, at the cost of the quality of your sleep not being all that high. You couldn’t quite remember the science of it but it sounded about right.

  
  


‘Just one sip’ turned into ‘just one more’, turned into ‘just oooone more’, turned into ‘just _oooone_ more’... turned into ‘oh fuck I’m definitely tipsy’. Although the amount of rum missing from the bottle wasn’t _that_ bad considering it wasn’t much and it was quite a small bottle you still knew you were an absolute _lightweight_ and by the time you had the sense to try and put the bottle on your bedside table and go to sleep you entirely missed the clear part of the table and instead knocked a small, cute lamp onto the floor.

  
  


_Ah, shit._ You thought, internally congratulating yourself on your lack of self control while your brain tried to fuzzily recall how limbs worked while you disentangled yourself from the bedsheets so you could lean down and grab the lamp to put it back on the table. _Tipsy, tired and dark don’t mix very well. I should know this by now._

  
  


Well, hey. At least you were finally feeling sleepy. You turned on the lamp to make sure it was still working- it had an adorable curved, raindrop-like base carved out of wood and sanded so smoothly it was like a soft, warm stone... you fumbled for the switch just under the bulb. There was a light ‘click’, and a gentle honey-yellow light immediately illuminated the room, the bulb masked by a canvas shade.

  
  


You blinked at the rush of brightness, bleary... _There. It’s still working._ You popped it back on the bedside table.

  
  


... Footsteps outside your room. You glanced up, still not quite feeling like drinking was a good idea.

  
  


Red opened up the door, in his pjs again, probably checking that the loud thudding of the lamp hitting the carpet wasn’t you falling out of bed.

  
  


The lamp glinted off his tooth in a small flash of light.

  
  


And suddenly, _violently,_ his image was replaced with Hit, in his scarlet red shirt, his eyelights sharp like a tiger about to attack. The room wasn’t honey-brown anymore, it was a stark, expensive white. His tooth glinted in the _exact same way_ as his face split into a haunting grin-

  
  


_“why so scared, lil’ bunny?”_

  
  


-you sat bolt upright, no sound escaping you except for a tiny breath in, your hands gripping the bedsheets as you prepared to scrabble backwards, whole body flooding instantaneously with a raw animal terror that made your limbs numb and your stomach twist and feel _sick-_

  
  


...

  
  


And just like that, you were back in the room. Red was looking at you, having teleported closer to snatch the falling bottle that slipped from your hands when you panicked. Your fingers were curled in the sheets so hard your knuckles were white, eyes unable to tear themselves away from his eyelights.

  
  


...

  
  


He only _just_ failed to hide the twitch of hurt in his expression.

  
  


“hey sweetheart.” He said, voice so similar to Hit’s and yet so _different,_ careful and quiet considering the time of night. He turned the bottle over in his hand to momentarily glance at the logo before placing it on the bedside table far more effectively than you could in your current state. “... everythin’ good in here?”

  
  


...

  
  


No. No, it wasn’t.

  
  


You held your arms out for a hug, feeling really rather pathetic. He made a little tut and a sympathetic ‘aw’ sound under his breath, like he was talking to a child who’d fallen and hurt their knee.

  
  


... You wanted to prove you weren’t afraid. You wanted to prove you weren’t afraid of _him_.

  
  


So as he came in for the hug, you instead pushed forward and closed the gap, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips against his... well. Against his teeth.

  
  


... He seemed to freeze up, hands planting on either side of you instead of going around you, leaning awkwardly over the bed. His body was radiating that familiar warmth you’d grown to enjoy so much... You squeezed yourself against him and you kissed harder, intent on proving something. _Anything._

  
  


...

  
  


He...

  
  


... wasn’t kissing back. In fact, he _broke away._

  
  


“... sweetheart.” He said, voice gentle, eyelights impossibly close. You felt like you could get swallowed in them if you looked for too long. “yer breath smells like alcohol.”

  
  


... Your brow furrowed in confusion. What was he trying to get at? You were _fine._ You were determined to _fix_ this. One of your hands on the back of his shirt instead went down and grabbed his bottom rib through the fabric of his top, confident and sure.

  
  


... He immediately sucked a _sharp_ breath, and grabbed said hand faster than you could process, prying it off his bones. The grin that broke out over his features was definitely a perceptive and knowing one, but there was an edge of carmine in his cheekbones as he pulled away more. “oohhh-kay. that’s enough of that.”

  
“Red.” You said, tone not all that strong. You gripped onto the front of his shirt and pulled him close again, aiming for the mouth... why wasn’t he kissing you back? Wasn’t his whole _thing_ about liking you?

  
  


“that’s me, honey.” He said, moving his head to the side so your lips pressed against his cheekbone. You made a frustrated sound in the back of your throat...

  
  


... You snuck your other hand around to his spine, and ran the flat part of your palm along the bumpy vertebrae, right down his back toward the pelvis.

  
  


... His reaction was like he’d been hit with an electric shock. His face flooded with red and he tried to pull away _again_ but you refused, solidly yanking him back- enough for him to lose his balance a little and push one knee up onto the bed to stop himself from falling directly on top of you.

  
  


“... that’s a no-no zone and you _know_ it.” He removed your hand again, linking his phalanges with yours to prevent any further sneaky fingers.

  
  


“R-Red!” You said, again, feeling your voice crack. You didn’t understand _why_ he wouldn’t kiss you back, why he kept removing your hands, why he wouldn’t let you fix it o-or why your throat felt so _tight_ all of a sudden.

  
  


“you’re drunk.” He replied, simple, gentle, placing your hand down and letting go. His sockets were lidded as he looked down at you... an expression akin to understanding on his face. “trust me, s’not that i dont want to. but i’m not gonna do you like this, aight?”

  
  


Your throat was so tight. When you attempted to say something, attempted to get words out, something along the lines of ‘I’m perfectly sober why are you acting like this’, it was just a sad little croak.

  
  


...

  
  


... You began to cry, frustrated and confused and overwhelmed. Red started to shush you gently, readjusting so he was lying down next to you, pressing chaste kisses to your forehead, cupping your cheek.

  
  


“I-I don’t hate you,” you forced out, rolling onto your side to twist your fingers into his shirt, “I-I’m not scared of _you...”_

  
  


With his face pressed against your forehead you definitely felt him cringe slightly.

  
  


“... _s’that_ what this is about?” He asked, sounding a little incredulous but mostly pitying.

  
  


“I’m not scared of you!”

  
  


“sweetheart. i _know_ that.” It was slight exasperation now. “it ain’t something you gotta prove.”

  
  


You looked up at him, barely able to make him out through the tears and alcohol muddling the messages your brain was feeding to you. A small part of you felt it must’ve been ironic that just the other night, the situation was flipped for both of you.

  
  


“B-but you always look so _upset_ when I...” when you flinch away from him, or look at him and don’t see _him._ The spark always faded in his eyelights for just a split second.

  
  


“nu-uh.” He readjusted, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you a little. “i’m gonna stop you right there. it’s not your fault you’re traumatised, you don’t gotta force yerself to get over it to make me feel better. i don’t expect ya t’just comfortably slip right back into things like nothin’ happened.”

  
  


“... Y-you’re not _him.”_ You said, weak, voice breaking.

  
  


His sockets crinkled at the corners, and he ran a hand over your hair. “i _know,_ darlin, i know. still doesn’t change that we look similar.”

  
  


“Red-”

  
  


“i care about you an’ i know you care about me. bit of flinchin’ isn’t gonna ruin anything, aight?”

  
  


“But I-”

  
  


“it’s not your fault you’re traumatised.”

  
  


“B-but-!”

  
  


He pressed a finger against your lips. Just like he did when you were at the cinema together... what felt like so long ago. His eyelights, despite their gentle glow, felt impossibly intense.

  
  


“it’s not your fault you’re traumatised.”

  
  


... You felt the tears welling up in your eyes for the umpteenth time that week. You pressed your face against his shoulder, sobbing quietly, just hoping you'd get over this as soon as possible.

  
  


... Red wrapped his big, safe arms around you... you exhaled, drowning in his comforting bonfire scent. It washed over you like the incoming tide as he ran his palm up and down your back slowly, the other securely on the back of your head, gently shushing.

  
  


... It was a far cry from the first time you’d broken down in his arms. He’d been like a statue, unsure of how to comfort you, unsure of how to express anything without seeming weak. But now, with his soft voice, and his confident hands...

  
  


... Just before you fell asleep, you felt so proud of him, the emotion glowing in your chest and warming you up far more than any alcohol could.

  
  


\---

  
  


You felt very lucky your only sign of a hangover when you opened your eyes that morning was a small headache that nagged near the front of your skull, persistent and juuuust enough to make you squint when the morning light filtering between the curtains was too much. You _really_ felt like you narrowly avoided getting the short end of the stick and ruining whatever Sans had undoubtedly planned for you that day by being completely unable to be in public.

  
  


You were also surprised that Red was still in bed with you when you woke up. Spooning you happily, a giant, warm pile of bones. You turned over your shoulder a little to look at him- his arms determinedly locked around your middle as he gently snored into your hair. He was usually gone by the time the sun came up, ready to act as if nothing had happened... but the past two times you’d spent the night together cuddling he hadn’t left in the morning.

  
  


Maybe the fiasco with Hit had frightened him into realising there was nothing wrong with being your cuddlebuddy. At least you had _that_ to thank Hit for.

  
  


“Pst. Red.” You nudged his chest by pushing your elbow back a bit. “I think I can hear the others moving around downstairs.”

  
  


“mmmmmnoooo.” He grumbled, voice husky and sleepy. “let me staaaay.”

  
  


“I’m hungry, Red. I might die.”

  
  


“then perish.”

  
  


... Your immediate thought of ‘where did you learn that?!’ was vastly outweighed by the shock of hearing _that_ come out of his mouth in such a breathy and _sexy_ voice.

  
  


... You couldn’t help it; you burst into a wheezing laughter, voice still in the process of waking up. You clutched at your stomach and bent forward a little, eyes squeezing shut.

  
  


Apparently your laugh was infectious because Red let out a few deep, quiet and raspy chuckles, letting you go sitting himself up a little to watch you cough out more laughter, curling in on yourself.

  
“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry...” you wiped your eyes, staring at the ceiling, sounding like you hadn’t had a glass of water in about 30 years. “I-I just... where did you even learn that from?”

  
  


“you.” He purred. You couldn’t remember where you would’ve said that to him, but it definitely seemed like something you’d say.

  
  


“N-next time, warn me before you decide to kill me. Okay?”

  
  


“i’ll try to.” He replied, soft.

  
  


You sighed and got out of bed, despite his sad grumble following after you. Still in a slightly sleepy haze, you went to lift your pj shirt off, taking the bottom in your hands and moving to raise it over your head...

  
  


“... ah, uh, sweetheart...”

  
  


...

  
  


You turned around, accidentally giving Red more flesh than he'd seen in the hot tub before you shoved your top back down, the sleepy cloud immediately lifting, your face and the tips of your ears quickly heating to what felt like close to the surface of the sun as you stared at his taken aback expression, fingers twisted so tight in the bottom hem that you were certain the shirt might tear.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“I-I forgot.” You said, squeaking. Well _now_ you were totally awake.

  
  


You didn’t even know what you forgot- you just... _forgot._ Did you forget he was there? Probably not. Maybe you just neglected to remember that Red had not, in fact, seen your bare chest yet.

  
  


_... Wait... ‘yet’? What am I thinking?!_

  
  


... His surprised expression melted into an amused one and chuckled after a few tense moments of silence, a warm, throaty sound that just made you go another shade redder. “i mean... you don’t need my permission to flash me, sweetheart. i’ll take a look at the goods if you’re that keen to show ‘em t-”

  
  


He couldn’t finish; you let out an indignant squawk and threw a pillow at him.

  
  


\---

  
  


Were it any other guy you knew they would _absolutely_ boast about seeing your tits, but you had enough confidence in Red’s character to not threaten him to keep it quiet when you came downstairs with him. You were pretty sure Sans could tell something had happened by the way you looked at Red, but... no one elected to say anything.

  
  


Thank _God._ Accidentally flashing your close friend who you knew had romantic _and_ sexual feelings for you was _not_ a conversation topic you wanted to have over breakfast.

  
  


It was at that point Sans revealed the day plan for the four of you- a trip to the beach... a smaller beach than the one you went to last time, a little hidden bay, hopefully with less people. You had absolutely _zero_ complaints about a day on the shore... and although just staying in the BnB was very much an option you felt like there was no point in hiding the whole time.

  
  


Maybe the sunlight and fresh air would be good for you. And no long car journey... God, having best friend/crushes who could teleport was something you would never ever complain about.

  
  


When you all arrived on the warm sand, in a little sheltered bay with a quaint cafe and a shop and a handful of people dotted around, you couldn’t have been happier. You had the forethought of putting your two-piece on under your regular clothes so you could just strip lie down in the warm shade (Red winked at you when you pulled your shirt over your head, which you did your best not to blush at)- Sans set up the parasol and Skull laid out the towels, Red unpacking various essentials out of the bag, like sunglasses and hats and suncreen.

  
  


And a few minutes later you were relaxed on a towel in the warmth, Red lying on your right and Sans chilling on your left, Skull being the furthest away for probably the first time you could recall, everyone happy.

  
  


... You really felt relaxed.

  
  


...

  
  


... You sighed, shutting your eyes, letting yourself smile.

  
  


The guys were all so different from the last time you visited the beach together. Skull barely spoke and was afraid of letting the others know he had a fear of water because it would make him look weak. Sans and Red were all but at each other’s throats, throwing things and threatening and only getting along because they knew you didn’t approve of them fighting. And here they were now... Red right next to you without the others seeming like they were about to take his nonexistent throat out, Skull and Sans (who could previously barely even look at each other) making light conversation as Skull asked various questions about the ocean and Sans did his best to explain.

  
  


“... Remember when you guys used to call Sans Blue?” You asked, eyes still shut, smiling a little bit.

  
  


Red chuckled. “should’ve called skull a colour. then we could’ve all been colours.”

  
  


You rolled onto your stomach, opening your eyes and turning your gaze to Skull. He still hadn’t taken his shirt off, unlike the others- he was too tall to be completely under the shade, the bottoms of his legs lit up with sun. “What colour would you be?”

  
  


“black?” He offered, head tilting a little.

  
  


“no, too sombre.” Red pursed his lips. “and you ain’t red either. not just cus that’s _my_ name and i’ll fight for it, but you’re more of a...” he snapped his fingers in mock realisation, sitting up on his elbows. _“periwinkle.”_

  
  


Skull levelled Red with a flat, unimpressed look, eyelid hooding over his eyelight. “no.”

  
  


“okay periwinkle.”

  
  


“psychological primary blue.” Sans said, refusing to sit up. “cmyk pigment blue.”

  
  


... You gasped, eyes probably sparkling. “Baby blue!”

  
  


He immediately flushed, eyelight going fuzzy. “m’not _baby.”_

  
  


“Skull.” You said, pressing your hands together in a ‘boi’ motion. “You are _so_ baby, it’s unbelievable.”

  
  


Red’s grin got wider, and you could tell he was trying to restrain chuckles. “you hear that, bud? it’s confirmed. you are, in fact, baby.”

  
  


You giggled to yourself, and then hummed, resting your chin on your hand and admiring Skull’s face. He got even bluer at your expression, starting to sweat a little.

  
  


“... If I had to pick an _actual_ colour...” You tapped your finger against your cheek. “I’d say ultramarine. It’s the colour your blush is. And it’s like you... very beautiful and precious.”

  
  


At that he put his head in his hands, rolling to face away from all of you, the ultramarine almost totally overtaking his face, all but literally steaming from the earholes.

  
  


“am _i_ beautiful and precious?” Sans asked, semi-sarcastically, striking a pose with the back of his hand against his forehead.

  
  


... You smiled, and he paused, clearly expecting you to tell him no. Instead you leant down to his level and pressed a kiss to the side of his face, next to his eyesocket, folding your arms and resting your chin on them.

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


“......... o-oh.” He put his hand against his cheekbone instead.

  
  


You had successfully made all three skeletons blush in the space of 24 hours- today was a good day.

  
  


... The warm sun was slowly creeping up the back of your legs as it moved across the sky, dipping under the sun shade; you pulled them to your chest and sat up. “I should probably put some sunscreen on. Better safe than sorry.”

  
  


You got up, crossing a small path of covered sand to where Red had removed the necessary items. You picked up the small yellow bottle of sunscreen, popping open the lid.

  
  


... It was a scented sunscreen. Citrusy and fruity. Strawberry, orange, lemon-

  
  


_L-lemon-_

  
  


_“you won’t believe the shit i went through to get the correct dosage for you.”_

  
  


_His_ arm around your throat, _his_ hand clamped over your mouth-

  
  


_“_ _**...s’like holding a struggling kitten-”** _

  
  


Suddenly, instinctively, your whole body seized up in complete terror. You flung the bottle onto the sand like it’d burnt you and staggered back, the panic pressing on your chest like an elephant, you couldn’t _move,_ h-he wouldn’t let _go_ you couldn’t _breathe_ you couldn’t- the panic the _panic_ the _panic the panic-_ you couldn’t escape you couldn’t breathe you were so _afraid-_

  
  


... Smaller arms closed around you. The semi-sweet, earthy pine smell flooded through you.

  
  


... Y-you _could_ breathe.

  
  


You took a deep, _deep_ breath through your nose as your body began to slowly come back to its senses.

  
  


“hey, hey.” Sans’s un-accented voice was gentle and comforting... “it’s okay. shh.”

  
  


Your vision started to clear... you were gripping onto his upper arm bones so tight you immediately loosened your hold for fear you’d accidentally snap him (though the reality of that happening was next to zero). You blinked a few times, coming back... Red and Skull had both leap to their feet as well. You noted how quickly they’d all moved. Red passed the two of you and picked up the discarded sunscreen bottle, teleporting it out of his hands somewhere you were just glad wasn’t here.

  
  


You were glad Sans’d grabbed you. If Skull or Red had held you with their giant arms, you would’ve gone into complete hysteria.

  
  


“... it’s okay.” Sans said, gentle, rubbing your arm as you parted from his hug, taking a deep breath. “we’ll get a new one. you good?”

  
  


You nodded, suddenly feeling a bit weak, putting a hand on your face.

  
  


... Skull’s hand gently closed around yours, knitting his giant phalanges between your tiny fingers. “... what was it?”

  
  


“Th-the lemon. The smell of lemon.” You said, voice slightly tight. ... You felt like that was a really weird thing to get a panic attack about, and immediately started justifying. “Wh-when he... the anaesthetic, it...”

  
  


“... don’t make yourself talk about it.” Skull said, soft, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

  
  


Red made a small affirmative sound in the back of his throat. “i’ll getcha a nicer one. ok? i’m sure the shop’ll have some for a real extortionate price. but it’s sans’s money so it’s fine.”

  
  


... You couldn’t help but giggle a tiny bit at that, and the three of them seemed to deflate, shoulders lowering.

  
  


“O-okay. Yeah.”

  
  


... Skull lead you back to the seat under the parasol, moving your towel a little bit so you’d be in the shade, taking a seat next to you with Sans on the opposite side.

  
  


...

  
  


You sighed. What a fucking fiasco.

  
  


...

  
  


“y’know.” Skull said, voice still impossibly soft and deep. “... you don’t... need to justify yourself to people.”

  
  


“... Huh?” You looked at him.

  
  


“... you don’t.” He reached up, knuckle ghosting your cheek. “you’re healing. you don’t need to... tell people why something hurts.”

  
  


You looked away. “... Lemon is such a weird thing to be upset over, though...”

  
  


“no. it’s not.” His stare softened. “... trust me. ... i... know a thing or two about trauma. and handling it.”

  
  


... Of course. This is Skull you’re talking about- the guy who lived in a starving Underground and couldn’t even _look_ at Frisk without going into a rage that you were barely able to stop.

  
  


... You looked up across the beach, toward the shop, hoping to see Red...

  
  


...

  
  


You saw him alright. He was in front of the small store that connected to the cafe, leaning against the wall with a bottle of blue-looking sunscreen in his hand...

  
  


... Flocked by a group of attractive young women.

  
  


You blinked.

  
  


His posture was relaxed and his smile was easygoing. They were crowded around him, four of them, all in different bikinis that immediately made you conscious of how little yours actually showed, his head rising above their level easily. One girl in particular at the front of the gang was in a stunning bright red beach getup with literal waves of black hair falling down her shoulders, a towel tucked under one arm... she _exuded_ confidence and you couldn’t help but admire how wonderful she looked. She said something, twanging her bikini top strap like a guitar string...

  
  


... And Red replied something else, with a point and a wink.

  
  


Her girlfriends immediately burst into scandalised giggles and one of them grabbed her friend’s arm... the lead girl made an agape face.

  
  


... Was he...

  
  


... Flirting?

  
  


...

  
  


You turned away, back to the ocean, tucking your knees up to your chest and putting your hands on your cheeks. Of _course_ he was flirting, get a grip. You squeezed your eyes shut- why did you feel so jealous? You weren’t even dating him. He had every right to talk to who he wanted to talk to, you couldn’t expect him to put off all his options because you had _him_ on hold.

  
  


“... you alright?” Sans asked, sitting up a bit too.

  
  


“I’m fine.” You mumbled, definitely _not_ fine. That girl was _so_ pretty, so confident...

  
  


Was it really a wise idea to keep Red waiting like this? Sure, you cuddled him at night, but anyone could do that. And you kind of threw yourself at him the night previous in an attempt to ‘prove’ you weren’t scared... Just the thought of that made you put your head against your knees in embarrassment and shame. Surely _that_ would sour things a little? You felt more comfortable how things were now, but what if _he_ didn’t like that? You hadn’t been considering how he felt.

  
  


He wasn’t in any way obligated to wait for you if he didn’t want to. How long would it take before Red found someone he liked more than you?

  
  


(...Someone who was better at making decisions, maybe?)

  
  


“kiddo.” Sans’s voice cut through your thoughts. You could hear Skull shuffling beside you, perhaps sitting forward. “you’re overthinking again.”

  
  


Damn Sans and his ability to read you like a fucking magazine.

  
  


You put your hands back on your cheeks, feeling them pinken from a mix of embarrassment and jealousy, voice coming out slightly smothered from your self-face-pressing. “... I-I think I’m jealous. Red’s flirting with some girls.”

  
  


“oh... yer _jealous?”_

  
  


_... Shit._

  
  


You immediately froze, face fading from pink to crimson slowly as it dawned on you just whose voice that was. There was a popping sound, a cap being flicked open... muffled shifting behind you of sand under a blanket... and then large hands were moving in circles on your shoulders, rubbing a distinctly coconut-smelling sunscreen onto your shoulders.

  
  


But you couldn’t concentrate on the tropical deliciousness- you were too busy melting into a puddle in embarrassment.

  
  


“got nothin' to say?” Red asked, teasing, leaning around a little to be closer to the side of your head. You couldn’t miss the smug edge to his tone.

  
  


“S-sorry, I... u-uhm...” Something about the way Red’s hands were moving against your shoulders was absolutely _magical._ The bony ridges of where his phalanges met, that you would _assume_ would be poky and painful, pushed and massaged in literally _just_ the right way. “I-it’s not fair of me to...”

  
  


“relax. it’s just jealousy. means you want me.” He purred, sounding oddly victorious. You shivered as he hit a knot in the muscle you didn’t even know was there, tensing up a little before unwinding like a frayed piece of rope. “so long as you don’t go ballistic or keep it locked up, ain’t nothin’ wrong with a bit of healthy green. ‘sides...”

  
  


His nasal ridge pressed into your hair, just above your ear, voice coming out _illegally_ silky and deep.

  
  


_“i think jealousy’s a hot look on you.”_

  
  


“red, you’re gonna melt them.” Sans inputted, helpfully, and Red hummed happily, retreating back to a normal distance and resuming rubbing the sunscreen into your upper arms.

  
  


And yes, Sans was probably right. You covered your face, desperately hoping you’d either cool down or that the sand would be nice and swallow you whole.

  
  


You couldn’t believe you grabbed this guy’s _spine_ last night. The thought made you burn up.

  
  


“it’s fine. ‘sides, don’t matter what they look like... yer still always gonna be my favourite. you know that.”

  
  


“... That girl was so hot, though.” You mumbled, the warmth from your cheeks leaking into your hands.

  
  


“i know, right?” Red replied, with a low whistle, his hands moving to your lower back by the towel.

  
  


... You turned and looked at him over your shoulder, trying your best ‘>:I’ face despite the ever-present blush. For someone who was probably the most emotionally articulate of the three of them that was a pretty goddamn blunt thing of Red to say.

  
  


He grinned at you, sockets lidded. He looked so handsome, face perfectly lit (or rather, not lit) in the shade of the parasol under the sun. “sweetheart, i can think other people are attractive and still like you more than them. i don’t suddenly lose my vision because i got the lover of my dreams in my life. but i choose to stick around with you anyway. you trust me?”

“Yes.”

  
  


“then trust me when i say you’re my favourite.”

  
  


... You had to admit, it felt really nice to hear him say you were his favourite. You relaxed a bit, stretching your legs out along the sand.

  
  


“... Can I have the bottle? I’ll do my legs.”

  
  


He passed the bottle over your shoulder to you, and you took it gratefully, squeezing a decent amount into your palm. It smelt amazing, tropical and sweet... coconut, and you felt like there was a trace of mango... nothing like the usual sunscreen smell.

  
  


... Coconut was so much nicer than lemon anyway.

  
  


“... also, i wasn’t flirting.” Red added, as if it were a very unimportant detail he just _happened_ to neglect to mention. ... You looked at him over your shoulder again, incredulous, hand stopping dead on your thigh, a smear of sunscreen visible.

  
  


“... What?”

  
  


His smile said it all. He’d been... _he’d been stringing you along just to wind you up._

  
  


“i told her i was engaged. can’t believe you forgot we were mcmarried, sweetheart. honestly.”

  
  


\---

  
  


The four of you spent almost all day on the beach, dipping in and out of the water depending on your temperature, as if you were reptiles trying to maintain a regular internal body heat. Once the sun hit the horizon it was time to pack up and go- you helped the guys shake off the towels and roll them up, pack the essentials back into the bag and make sure you hadn’t left anything on the sand but your own footprints.

  
  


The BnB was the perfect place to come back to after a long day by the edge of the water. Warm, homey, bright... you had to head straight up to the shower to get the salt out of your hair and the sunscreen off of your skin. The shower was a bit of a bitch to decipher (why couldn’t showers just be made the same? Why couldn’t the knobs just turn the same way...?) but a few minutes later and you came out in your pyjamas, refreshed and feeling wonderful.

  
  


... It was then that you noticed something you’d forgotten to check out when you’d first arrived in the BnB- a balcony. It was a small door at the end of the tiny hall, past the bedrooms... it had a window set in the upper centre, clearly showing that there was no room behind it- just the outside.

  
  


... The guys were downstairs, talking, moving around.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


You crossed the floor and pressed down the handle of the balcony door, stepping out.

  
  


... And you were immediately struck by just how _cold_ it was.

  
  


Your breath came out in a little rush of vapour. Just how far had the guys teleported to get to a beach that warm? You stepped out onto the balcony. It was quite small- enough for about three people. The railing was made of wood and looked newly polished; like someone had only just cleaned it a few days ago.

  
  


_Owner probably fixed it up._ You thought, taking another step forward to put your hands on the pine railing. _Can’t imagine wood that’s been out in the open for so long would look very nice._

  
  


... You shuffled, resting your elbows on it instead, staring out into the dark, dark forest. The trees rose above the cabin so when you looked up you could only just see some stars through the channels between the branching canopies... The only illumination came from the crack in the door behind you.

  
  


... Another breath. It rose, evaporating, catching the light.

  
  


...

  
  


Another one. This came out wobbling- shaking as you started to shiver with cold. You brought your hands up to your mouth to warm them... you weren’t entirely sure why you couldn’t look away from the pitch black.

  
  


...

  
  


It made you feel serene.

  
  


...

  
  


You were so caught up in staring out into the woods that when a warm, fur-lined blue jacket was tucked over your shoulders it genuinely surprised you. You looked to your right; Sans was there, grinning at you, only in a white turtleneck sweater.

  
  


“don’t get cold.” He said, gentle.

  
  


... You hummed, happily, tucking your arms through the holes. It was so warm... Sans’s pine smell was a thousand times nicer than the pine smell in the forest you’d been staring aimlessly into.

  
  


He wrapped an arm around your middle to pull you a little closer and you gladly leant into him, own arm sneaking around him too.

  
  


“so, uh... what was that about mcmarriage?”

  
  


...

  
  


... You snorted into his shoulder, perhaps not the most attractive sound. “Oh my God, Sans.”

  
  


“i’m serious.” He sounded anything _but_ serious, voice full of pretend desperation. “i’m completely stumped here. i’ve been trying to figure out if it’s some kind of pun since red said it. am i just being stupid?”

  
  


“It was while you were sulking and being a jerk.” You said, reaching up with your free hand to pinch his nasal ridge between your thumb and forefinger. “Red got drunk and I walked him home. I think some people said some dumb comment about how terrible it would be to have a monster boyfriend... so I said he was my _fiancé.”_

  
  


“oh my stars.”

  
  


“And then Red said that in the future, if people are bothering us, he’ll keep ahold of a plastic happy meal toy then get down on one knee and ask to mcmarry me.”

  
  


He shook his head, chuckling, rolling his eyelights. “that’s _so_ dumb. ... i could’ve thought of so much better. just sucks you had to have some people be racist to get that, huh?"

  
  


“Well, y’know.” You took your arm away from around his shoulders so you could make hand gestures, staring out into the dark. “It’s... I don’t like to think of it as ‘it sucks the fun had to come from a bad experience’. I... I prefer to think of it more like we took something that _should’ve_ been a bad experience, and made it a good one, y’know? That could’ve ruined our day, but instead we made it something fun... an in-joke between us. We took the power away from their comments by enjoying ourselves. I just... I wish people didn’t make those comments in the first place. There’s no point... do they think they’re cool or something? Is spreading negativity a way to impress their friends? It’s like children. I don’t think I’ll understand what it’s like to be a monster walking around in public and just hearing that all the time...”

  
  


... When you turned to Sans to get his opinion, he...

  
  


... He was resting his chin on his hand, watching you with the most adoring, _loving_ expression you’d ever seen from him in your whole life. His sockets were lidded a little, and his grin was wide soft, eyelights glowing like stars.

  
  


...

  
  


You flushed, forgetting what you were talking about.

  
  


“go on.” He said, patting your hip. "you were saying?"

  
  


"... Th-that was it." You said, tucking some hair behind your ear and glancing away, heart doing a little flutter in your ribcage.

  
  


That face he made was...

  
  


_“kiss them_ already you fuckin’ _virgi-”_

  
  


The loud voice from directly behind the two of you (you jumped a little but Sans seemed unfazed) was cut off quickly- you both looked over your shoulders to see Red being dragged out of view very unceremoniously by Skull.

  
  


...

  
  


“... Pf...” You looked at Sans, an embarrassed sort of smile appearing on your now-hot face no matter how hard you tried to repress it. _Kiss_ you? Was... was that his plan? I mean, he’d given you a kiss after the prank war (more like prank massacre) but that’d felt more like a giddy, shy sort of peck more than anything else. “W-what?”

  
  


Sans chuckled at the hijinks, a small gesture of his finger encasing the balcony door in a gentle blue glow, shutting itself properly. He then turned back to you, leaning his chin on his hand and smiling.

  
  


“ignore them. you were saying?”

  
  


... You couldn’t hold eye contact. Maybe _you_ should kiss _him_ instead of waiting for him to make the move. "Uhm... y-yeah. Racism bad happiness good. A revolutionary opinion, I know."

  
  


"... hey. speaking of happiness good." ... You noted the glint in his eyelights when you looked back to him. "bare with me a sec."

  
  


He got his phone out of his pocket, the light casting over his face in a cold blue flash. He typed, scrolled for a few seconds...

  
  


... Pressed the volume button up and up until it was at max and put the device on the floor just behind him.

  
  


... You watched him, confused... he just grinned at you, slipping his hand further around your middle until the two of you were almost chest-to-chest, palm pressed gently on the small of your back.

  
  


...

  
  


... Music started to play. Gentle piano. Then a very familiar voice...

  
  


_"Wise men say..."_

  
  


Oh my God. Elvis Presley... _This_ song? "Sans-"

  
  


"shh." He talked over the song, linking his free hand's fingers with yours, giving a soft squeeze. "c'mon. i'm gonna fix my single biggest regret."

  
  


_"... But I... can't... help..."_

  
  


He started to sing too, beginning to sway. "falling in looove wiiith yoouu..."

  
  


... You shook your head, smiling... but put your hand on his shoulder, joining his sway. His voice was a soothing baritone, remarkably like Presley’s, soft and low...

  
  


“... would it be a sin...?”

  
  


You couldn’t help it, joining in. “If I can’t help... falling in love with you?”

  
  


"like a river flows,"

  
  


"Surely to the sea..."

  
  


"darling, so it goes,"

  
  


"Some things..."

  
  


"are meant to be."

"Are meant to be..."

  
  


His hand holding yours moved down to join the other at the small of your back. _Take my whole life too..._ You copied the motion, both hands now looped around his shoulders... whatever lyrics to the verse he may have known he clearly couldn't sing because he was too busy just staring at you. Several lines slipped by into the night, untouched. You found yourself in a very similar situation, only keying into a few words... _like a river flows..._ it felt as if you were in a Disney movie, the sweet harmonies drifting by into the night.

  
  


_Darling, so it goes... Some things... are meant to be..._

  
  


He seemed to regain himself a little after a while of looking into your eyes, taking a small breath through his mouth. “... take my hand, take m-my whole life too.”

  
  


You smiled. “For I... can’t help...”

  
  


He smiled back. “falling in love with you.”

  
  


“For I... can’t help...”

  
  


“falling in love...”

  
  


“... With you.”

“with you.”

  
  


...

  
  


The music faded out, and for a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. The gentle swaying ‘dance’ the two of you had been doing slowly settled to a halt... you just stood there, your hands on his shoulders, his around your waist.

  
  


Sometimes, when surrounded by the gigantic others, like Red who somehow gave the physical appearance of being ripped without muscles and Skull who looked as if he could crush your entire head in his massive hand, you forgot that Sans (who you always mentally considered your fellow short person) wasn’t frail or little at all. He was sturdy, and even when his arms gently encased you there was a deceptive strength behind them you’d always known was there without him having to make a scene about it.

  
  


... Your sturdy, reliable Sans.

  
  


...

  
  


You brushed a thumb across his zygomatic bone, below his socket, butterflies in your stomach and heart all but rippling in your chest it was beating so fast. He leaned into the touch, reaching up with one hand to ghost a knuckle over your cheek...

  
  


...

  
  


“... you’re absolutely freezing.” He cupped your face properly. “let’s get inside.”

  
  


... You nodded. And apparently he didn’t even want to waste time completing the whole process of walking up to the door, opening it, stepping inside and shutting it... he teleported, the world falling out from under you for just a few moments before you were submerged in warm air that made tingles spread across your nose and cheeks and fingers... all the various cold extremities. You sighed, happy...

  
  


“... you’re wonderful.” Sans said, sockets lax, happy, voice like a murmur.

  
  


And you realised, your hands braced against his chest... that he teleported because he didn’t want to let go.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


... When his lips pressed against yours it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  
  


\---

  
  


You couldn’t deny that descending the BnB’s stairs with Sans’s arm looped around your waist did make you feel kind of like you were Cinderella with the prince. You knew it was dumb and a childish sentiment but... it was the closest you could get to describing what you were feeling in your chest. And apparently he felt it too- Sans was completely unable to wipe the Dumb Grin off his face, eyelights tiny supernovas in his sockets.

  
  


Red and Skull were sat on the large couch, the former of whom immediately grinned when he saw the two of you, you still wearing Sans’s jacket. “didja finally smooch 'em properly you fuckin dumbass?”

  
  


Sans chuckled, his arm still around you- Red raised a brow and lightly applauded.

  
  


“took long enough.”

  
  


“I’ll say.” You sank into the couch gratefully, Sans settling onto the arm, heart finally starting to calm back into place. You felt like these last few days had had enough blushing and butterflies to last you a lifetime. “All it took was a romantic dance under the starlight, heh.”

  
  


“you _danced?”_ Red jumped up off the couch, eyesockets practically with stars in them too. “hey, skull, c’mon, like we practised!”

  
  


... What?

  
  


Skull grinned too, and got up, the whole couch shifting as he moved. You glanced at Sans, confused- he looked just as puzzled as you, but he still seemingly couldn’t wipe the traces of the dumb smile off his face.

  
  


Red grabbed Skull’s hand and Skull put his other on the back of Red’s ribcage.

  
  


... You blinked, several times.

  
  


Then, surprisingly gracefully, Skull _dipped_ Red- _wait what_ \- like they were on some kind of dance competition, both pulling ridiculous over-the top poses and faces (Red was practically upside-down with his spine in a curve and the two of them had the backs of their hands against their foreheads like distressed damsels). After a few moments Red stood up properly and they just _dissolved_ into laughter, Red bending over a bit to brace his nonexistent stomach... Skull's laughter was perhaps slightly gentler and softer than the smaller skeleton but laughter all the same.

  
  


“... What the _hell_ did we miss?” You asked, incredulous but unable to resist their contagious laughter.

  
  


“w-we heard the music and figured you two were dancing. thought we’d practise some of our own.”

  
  


“i’m the better dancer.” Skull said, simply.

  
  


This was amazing. You clapped, perhaps a little late, lightly elbowing Sans until he joined you, rolling his eyelights. “Holy shit. Is there _more?”_

  
  


Red’s brows flew up. “oh, you wanna see more?”

  
  


“Is that even a question?”


	33. Without parental consent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You introduce your parents to your boyfr- roommates. Roommates.

**\- Mom:** Hello sweetie, how are you doing ? It’s been a while . :)

  
  


**\- You:** Hi mom! Yeah, sorry I haven’t been keeping up as much, it’s just been reaaaalllyyy busy around here xx just got home from a much needed small de-stress holiday so I haven’t had time to text everyone I know

  
  


**\- Mom:** Not enough time to talk to your mother ?

 **\- Mom:** :(

  
  


**\- You:** Yeah, it has, unfortunately. But I’m here now, haha!

  
  


**\- Mom:** How is that young man Sans you live with ? Can I say man if he’s a monster ?

  
  


**\- You:** ‘man’ is fine. And he’s going okay, we’ve been talking more

  
  


**\- Mom:** Well just remember what I told you about monsters .

  
  


**\- You:** How’s dad doing?

  
  


**\- Mom:** The doctor put him on a low cholesterol diet . He’s doing amazing now . Though he is very grumpy he can’t have beer anymore !! He thinks it’s a sham.

  
  


**\- You:** Well I’m glad he’s okay :) tell him I said hi xx

  
  


**\- Mom:** Well you can say hi to him yourself ! We’re coming up to visit you .

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


**\- You:** wait what

  
  


\---

  
  


“... you can’t convince them not to come up?”

  
  


“I tried to!” You said, voice carrying a sliiiiight edge of panic. You were pacing back and forth in front of the kitchen table, phone in hand, the guys all sat down around it (Skull’s chair seemed comically small). “They’re staying with a friend so the ‘not enough beds’ excuse didn’t work. I said we were busy and they said it’s ‘not a big deal’, they’ll just stay with their friend and show up in the evening. I said you,” you offhandedly gestured to Sans with your free hand before turning away, “were tired from work and they said they’d ‘just be quiet’! My mom couldn’t be quiet to save her life!”

  
  


“so they don’t know we’re here too?” Red asked, resting one elbow on the table.

  
  


You stopped pacing for a moment, crossing your arms and tapping your forearm nervously. “I couldn’t tell Mom two random guys had shown up at the apartment, she would absolutely _flip._ They’d drive all the way here just to pick me up and take me home.”

  
  


“monsterphobes?” Red tried to subdue the distaste in his voice, raising a brow bone.

  
  


“not really.” Sans answered, on your behalf, putting his hands on the table. “i mean, yeah, being monster makes it a bit worse, but i don’t think _any_ parent would be happy to hear their child was living with one asshole and two complete strangers miles away from where they live. they just happen to be like a sewing kit- a lil’ bit extra needly.”

  
  


You pointed at Sans. “Stop it. I’m trying to be nervous. You’re not allowed to be funny right now.”

  
  


He grinned, shrugging.

  
  


Red pursed his lips. “so y’ve met their mom and dad?”

  
  


“they came over once to see how they were doing. they’re actually really nice.”

  
  


He narrowed his sockets. “while ya were still bein’ an asshole?”

  
  


You snorted. “No, we’d made up by then. Dad was won over with jokes and Mom with general smallness. They’re nice, I promise, just...” you rubbed the bridge between your eyes. “Mom tends to read those hysterical articles and dig herself into an opinion corner. And anything you say to disprove her is ‘disrespect’, even if it’s true. _Especially_ if it’s true.”

  
  


“... parents can suck.” Red said, eyelights glancing to the side, his expression... a mix of uncomfortable and something else you couldn’t quite place but you noted seemed akin to anger.

  
  


... You recalled him saying something about his dad hitting him on the head when he was small, causing his longsightedness, when he was explaining why he needed his (adorable) glasses. You’d avoided the subject, not wanting him to get bogged down in something too deep...

  
  


But he really didn’t look too happy right now. You felt your thought-of-parents-visiting-induced brow crease soften a little...

  
  


... Maybe you should talk to him later? Calling him out on it right now would definitely be a dick move, but...

  
  


Before you could finish that thought, Skull spoke.

  
  


“i should leave.”

  
  


...

  
  


“what?”

_“What?”_

“what.”

  
  


He’d been silent the whole time, staring at the table, listening in on the conversation- his eyelight was tighter than usual, lacking it’s telltale fuzz when he felt happy or comfortable with something, the rim perfectly visible all the way around.

  
  


He looked up, suddenly seeming smaller.

  
  


“i should leave. while they’re here.”

  
  


... Your brow re-furrowed.

  
  


“... No, you shouldn’t.” You said again, approaching the table and putting your hands down on it. “You’re not leaving. Why would you leave?”

  
  


“... red’s charming, at least.” He held eye contact. “and... one extra skeleton isn’t as bad as two, maybe... they’ll prefer it like...

  
  


... that...”

  
  


... He started to shrink away from you and into his seat as your affronted, almost _angry_ stare at him intensified with every word that came out his mouth. You sort of felt like you were leaning over him despite the fact that he was roughly your height while he was sitting down.

  
  


“... a-and...” A bead of sweat formed on his cranium. “i’m...”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“... And you’re _what.”_ You asked, voice probably a tad too sharp considering how he immediately looked away from you, picking at his sleeve.

  
  


... Red and Sans seemed to be leaning away from Skull.

  
  


... Well, actually, they seemed more to be leaning away from _you._

  
  


...

  
  


You forced yourself to lower your shoulders, realising just how snappy that’d come out. Being harsh with Skull was _every_ kind of bad idea- you reprased yourself, making sure your voice was softer.

  
  


“... Sorry. You’re what?”

  
  


“... i’m scary.” He said, taking his time.

  
  


“No.” Your voice was still much gentler than your initial bark but it remained firm.

  
  


“they might...”

  
  


“I’m not going to pretend someone I love doesn’t exist so they can feel better. I’m a grown-ass adult, they’re not going to force me out of where I live.” You took your hands off the table so your posture was a little less threatening. You felt like a cat scaring a grizzly. “They can grow up and get used to you, or they can leave.”

  
  


... Skull’s cheekbones tinged blue and he sank into his chair, Red giving him a small supportive shoulder pat.

  
  


“... so you’re determined skull’s gonna meet your parents?” Sans asked.

  
  


“I’m determined they’re going to meet _everyone.”_ You turned on your phone, turning away and re-allowing your tensity to show. “And if they don’t like them, that’s their damn problem.”

  
  


You headed off to your bedroom to call your dad, knowing he’d be much more likely to take the news easier.

  
  


\---

  
  


You waited outside the apartment complex for your parents to arrive, back against the wall by the door, a coat wrapped around you to protect you from the snow (more like slush, none of it was sticking) that had recently started to fall from the sky. Your breath came out in puffs and you bounced your foot _very_ nervously.

  
  


You’d managed to play off needing to go to work tomorrow, your parents reluctantly agreeing to only come over for the afternoon and evening. They (Mom) became significantly pushier about coming over once you spilled that there were two extra guys in the household; she was very much on your case about not telling them about that earlier.

  
  


You knew what time they were supposed to be there, and you also knew that if your mom was driving they would definitely be a few minutes early considering her... occasional ‘accidental’ disregard of traffic laws. She was the kind of woman who saw it as a speed target, not a speed _limit._

  
  


And you were right- five or six minutes before they were scheduled to arrive, a very familiar car pulled up a few spaces away from where you were standing, someone in the window waving enthusiastically. You smiled, waving back, despite the slight anxiousness brewing inside you.

  
  


Despite what you’d said to Skull and the others, you hadn’t exactly given your parents a... full physical description of the ‘new’ guys. You wanted them to actually give your skeleboys a chance instead of immediately deciding they must be evil based on the fact that they’re both unreasonably tall and strong.

  
  


“(y/n)!”

  
  


You hadn’t heard your name spoken out loud in what felt like forever, so it definitely took a moment for you to register that your name wasn’t ‘sweetheart’ or ‘kiddo’ or ‘pumpkin’. Your mom beat your dad out of the car, forgetting to close her door in her hurry to run over to you.

  
  


She looked... older than you remembered. There were clear crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes and she was wearing a new sweater you’d never seen before, bright and probably expensive considering her inability to control herself while shopping online. She grappled you in a very tight (and slightly uncomfortable) hug that almost bowled you over- it was like a cross between an old friend and an overly touchy aunt at a family reunion.

  
  


“H-hi Mom.” You said, awkwardly, hugging her back. She _still_ wore that same perfume.

  
  


“It’s been forever! You got taller! Oh my goodness I _much_ prefer your hair this length.” She pulled back and started fussing your locks and shirt; you reeled back a bit too with a small laugh, not really able to tolerate her obsession with making you look neat after so long looking after yourself.

  
  


She’d always felt like your physical appearance was a reflection of her quality as a mother. She wasn’t a terrible mom by any stretch of the imagination, and despite the slight annoyingness of her fussing you were _really_ happy to see her after so long. But... her desperation to present you neatly as a child usually meant she could not _stand_ it if you weren’t perfectly groomed. A hair out of place, a skirt pleat wider than the others, a scuff on your shoes... anything of the sort meant that the public _must_ think she’s a _terrible mother_ and they’d _obviously_ call CPS or something on her for neglecting you. And sometimes it was _your_ fault if those problems repeated themselves... you couldn’t play in the field with the other kids at school because you were afraid she’d yell at you for ‘deliberately dirtying your socks’.

  
It just meant that the older you got, the more you enjoyed having freedom over your own clothing and presentation, and loved just wearing baggy shirts and torn pants. It didn’t help that you had Sans encouraging you to not even get out of your pjs if you had nowhere to be.

  
  


Hell, even if you had somewhere to be.

  
  


“I’m fine, Mom.” You said, patient. “No one’s looking.”

  
  


“You changed your name to ‘fine’?”

  
  


Your dad’s voice was absolutely welcome, him having to go around your mom to get to you, sporting that familiar smile. You hugged him immediately, happy to have his calming and laidback presence, the yin to your mother’s yang...

  
  


... And you suddenly realised that he wasn’t _nearly_ as tall as you remembered. He wasn’t even as tall as Red.

  
  


Your parents were the _definition_ of opposites attracting. Your mom was stormy and headstrong and determined to no end, the definition of a matriarch, leading with her heart instead of her head, following a ‘feel first, think later’ mentality. Impulsive, energetic, always putting her own family above other people...

  
  


... And your dad was the complete opposite. Logical, calm, sweet, a kind soul who didn’t have a single bad bone in his body, enjoying an unambitious routine life. You’d never seen him angry. A little clumsy sometimes, but ultimately well-meaning. He’d always believed you were able to make your own decisions and have your own life- a very _very_ welcome break from your mom who couldn’t let you walk five steps without worrying over a possible danger, really putting the ‘mother’ in ‘smothering’.

  
  


They played off each other perfectly. Her pushing him to try new things and all but running their life to keep his slightly klutzy self away from trouble, him keeping her from exploding with his calming aura and getting her to take things slower... to stop and smell the flowers.

  
  


You squeezed him once and let go, and he patted your upper back... much more physical contact than he usually gave out.

  
  


“Your mother is incorrect.” He said. “You didn’t get any taller.”

  
  


That made you pout.

  
  


“So,” he gave you a light elbow, a teasing lilt to his tone. “How about these new _boyfriends_ of yours, huh? Do we get to meet them?”

  
  


Your mom’s face immediately reminded you of a calm ocean moments before a raging storm came through- deceptively sweet but very clearly about to crack into thunder and lightning.

  
  


“Oh, yes! _How about them?”_ Icy.

  
  


You laughed, awkward, rubbing the back of your neck- she’d taken it pretty well over the phone, but... maybe you’d underestimated how much she’d dislike it.

  
  


Fuck. You were _already_ nervous.

  
  


“W-well, y’know,” you glanced away. “I was hoping we could go somewhere else together before we...”

  
  


“Nonsense!” Mom said, clapping her hands together, smile bright (but her twitching brow giving away her true feelings). “I’d love to meet them immediately! These boys you _clearly_ didn’t think were important enough to mention to us!”

  
  


You shot your dad a pleading look- he cut in, gentle, putting a hand on your mom’s shoulder blade.

  
  


“Dear,” he had his classic gentle, non-condescending ‘speaking to angry mom’ voice that he’d most likely perfected over decades of marriage. “Maybe we should have some family time first? I’m sure they’re fine if (y/n)’s got no problem with them. They’re twent-”

  
  


“Let’s go _right now!”_

  
  


Welp. You and Dad just looked at each other and sighed internally. If there was anything you’d learnt, it was that there was absolutely _no_ point in arguing any further with your mother when she looked like she was about to strangle someone (you didn’t know _how_ her tempers bounced off your dad like water off a duck’s back). Though that certainly hadn’t stopped you before, you figured maybe it was for the better you just swallowed your nerves and weathered the storm asap.

  
  


“... Okay.” You smiled. “C’mon.”

  
  


You took your parents into the apartment complex and started climbing up the stairs, anxieties beginning to mount.

  
  


...

  
  


“Hey, uh...” You gently caught Dad's attention. “So, erm, one of my...” potential suitors _“friends,_ Skull... he struggles with speech, especially with new people. He’s quite slow and shy, you might not get much out of him. Just stick to yes/no questions, ok? And please don’t stare at his injury.”

  
  


You could see your mom’s eyebrows raise. “His name is _Skull?”_

  
  


“It’s a nickname. He hates his real name.”

  
  


“Well...” Your dad scratched the stubble on the side of his face. “How will I know which one’s Skull?”

  
  


Eesh. “You’ll know.”

  
  


You got to your door and had to take a small breath in. You put your hand on the door handle...

  
  


...

  
  


You looked over your shoulder at your parents. _“Please_ don’t stare at his injury.”

  
  


Dad gave you a thumbs up, but mom shrugged, noncommittal. “I’ll try.”

  
  


Breath out.

  
  


...

  
  


You pushed your door open, taking them inside and taking your shoes off by the door, encouraging them to do the same. Your heart was in your throat- you talked mad shit about not caring if they didn’t like the guys, but... now that you were actually _here_ and the chance of them not liking them was so _close,_ you couldn’t control your nerves.

  
  


Just... just get it over with.

  
  


So you took them to the living room and opened the door too, stepping inside.

  
  


...

  
  


Red was sat on the couch, Sans chilling next to him, and Skull was standing in the middle of the room. From their faces when they all turned to look at the three of you you could easily tell they’d probably been in the process of calming Skull down before the sound of the front door opening had made him freeze on the spot like a deer in the headlights.

  
  


... Mom and Dad stopped.

  
  


Understandably.

  
  


...

  
  


You swallowed, crossing the room to Skull. You took his hand in your own and squeezed it, noticing the stiffness in his whole posture, the way he was noticeably (at least to you) forcing that small smile to stay on his face despite the beads of sweat forming on the unbroken side of his cranium.

  
  


You turned back to your parents.

  
  


“Mom, Dad.” You said, trying to control your voice and expression. “... Red and Skull.”

  
  


...

  
  


“Good to see you again, Sans.” Dad said, breaking the silence for just a moment.

  
  


...

  
  


... Fuck. Mom looked like she’d blown a blood vessel.

  
  


Red jumped up from the couch when no one said anything (and your eyes screamed 'help me'), a very charming grin on his face. He stuck his huge skeletal hand out to your dad with a... surprisingly _easy_ aura.

  
  


“pleasure t’ meet ya. i’m red, if the nickname isn’t too obvious.”

  
  


Your dad was apparently very pleasantly taken aback by Red’s confidence, and took his hand, shaking it with a small smile forming on his face. You could tell immediately that he was trying _very_ hard to keep his eyes on the skeleton in front of him instead of turning his head to gawk at the giant a few feet away.

  
  


“... Nice to meet you too.” He said, tone controlled, but nowhere near as upset/concerned as you had anticipated. He’d always liked Sans (the two of them bonding over crappy puns) but you had no clue how he’d react to Red- maybe, since Red and Sans were the same person, Red’d get along with your dad?

  
  


“... Honey.” Your mom said, her voice tight as an elastic band in the hands of a schoolboy. You immediately went rigid. “Can I speak to you for a moment? _Alone?”_

  
  


_... Shit._

  
  


... You squeezed Skull’s hand again, letting go, giving your best apologetic look to his ‘please don’t leave me here’ stare. You didn’t miss your dad’s small ‘you got this’ thumbs up to you as you passed him... you really didn’t feel like you had it at all.

  
  


You felt like both of you were going to explode and it was _not_ going to be pretty.

  
  


You followed your mom into your bedroom, where she gently shut the door behind the two of you, taking a deep breath through her nose- her signature ‘someone calm me, I’m about to blow’ gesture.

  
  


... You crossed your arms defensively.

  
  


“... Sweetie.” She said, turning to you, hands together again, smile so _so_ strained. “What the _fuck.”_

  
  


“No.” You pointed at her. “I’m _not_ doing this. Not while my friends are next door.”

  
  


“Are you _kidding me!?”_ Her voice was a whisper-shout, eyebrows high on her head. This side of your mother you definitely did _not_ miss. “That... _what?!_ Do you have _no_ sense of safety? What’s his... ‘Skull’ looks like he could _crush_ you! And what kind of a name is Skull!? I think that says a _lot_ about him and his interests, quite frankly.”

  
  


“It his nickname. And what the hell does _interests_ mea-”

  
  


“He probably likes death, and goth, or whatever those things are called.” She put her hands on her hips. “And don’t get me started on that ‘Red’ boy. I’d bet my pension he has a motorcycle.”

  
  


Oh my God.

  
  


“Maybe,” you hissed, through gritted teeth, slowly losing your mind, “if you took a moment to get to _know_ them, you’d find out they’re both-”

  
  


“No!” She was _really_ mad. “This is crossing a line! _Several lines!_ The line has been crossed and blown to pieces! Besides, there’s barely enough room for two people in this apartment, let alone _four._ What are they doing here? Where are they sleeping? Are they just mooching? Do they have girlfriends? Do they even _work?”_

  
  


“They’re Sans’s family and they just need a place to stay!”

  
  


...

  
  


She narrowed her eyes. “Something in that sentence was a lie.”

  
  


Fuck. Subject change. You rubbed your temples, getting a headache. “Is this because they’re monsters?”

  
  


“Of _course_ it isn’t!” She threw her hands up. “They’re huge! They’re gigantic! If you brought human men that size I’d be _just_ as worried that you’d lost _all sense of self preservation!”_

  
  


“We’re not in the fucking _jungle,_ Mom, they’re nice people and I enjoy being around them.”

  
  


“How do you know they’re not-”

  
  


“Because they’re _not_ bad people!” You cut in. _“Why_ won’t you just accept that I know what I’m doing?”

  
  


_“Don’t_ interrupt me!” She snapped, getting red in the cheeks.

  
  


“YOU interrupted ME!” You yelled, exasperated and refusing to back down. _“TWICE!”_

  
  


How were you supposed to explain everything that you’d been through with them? If you told her about Skull’s breakdown and him almost _choking_ you she’d lose her mind before you could even mention what happened afterward. Sleeping next to him was a no-go, any of Red’s flirting was absolutely off the table. If you told her they both were undoubtedly in love with you she’d go _ballistic_ and that would be the end of that...

  
  


... But all that thinking about the events you’d been through together gave you a small idea that was enough to reign you in from yelling even more.

  
  


“... Okay. Ok, how about this?” You put your hands out, calming yourself, maintaining eye contact with her. “Red? He doesn’t own a bike. He’s not some kind of asshole jock, he’s super lovely and actually a huge nerd.”

  
  


“He’s _what?”_ She asked, her visible confusion deflating her trademark anger a little. You jumped on the opportunity.

  
  


“He has glasses about this big,” you brought your hands up to your face and drew circles in the air around your eyes, “and he can’t read without them. I thought he was pulling my leg when I saw them.”

  
  


When she didn’t interrupt, apparently attempting to mull over the information and attach the image of dinnerplate glasses to the undoubtedly sexy skeleton next door, you continued.

  
  


“And Skull? He’s a huge baby! And not the manchildy-asshole way. He’s sweet and kind. He adores baking and cooking, he’s amazing at making things taste good.”

  
  


...

  
  


She seemed to deflate more, food apparently hitting a note. Your mother was a very avid cook, always handling the main meals while your dad made dessert.

  
  


“... Well.” She folded her arms. Her voice had taken on the huffy, distinct ‘I recognise I am wrong but I would rather die than say it out loud’ tone, her brow creased. “Enjoying a spot of baking doesn’t make him a good or trustworthy person.”

  
  


You softened too, now that she was being less prickly, letting out a silent sigh. “But it does mean you can give him a chance. Right?”

  
  


... She paused, breaking her determined eye contact. You couldn’t say that your relationship with her hadn’t hit bumps in the road over your life- having very similar personalities and very similar levels of sheer, unadulterated stubbornness and determination meant that usually your dad sitting the two of you down with a pizza and playing peacemaker was the only reason either of you spoke over the twenty-something year period.

  
  


Those poor bedroom doorframes and the violent slamming. If you could apologise to an inanimate object it would be your door.

  
  


“... Skull..." She began, her voice leagues softer than before. "How did he get that...”

  
  


... She gestured to around her head area.

  
  


“Injury?” You finished.

  
  


She nodded.

  
  


You couldn’t stay angry at anything but Skull’s Undyne while thinking about his gaping head hole. “... He was surprise attacked by someone who used to be his friend. They were intending to kill him.”

  
  


“... But he’s so _large._ How could anyone jump him?” Her voice was almost whispery now, as if afraid they would hear from the living room. She didn’t seem like she thought you were lying- the aggression from earlier was completely gone, replaced with something like disbelief and pity.

  
  


You shook your head. “He wasn’t that big before. He was around Sans’s size, actually... The injury messed with his magic and warped his size- he’s really self conscious about his height and strength. He can’t talk or think as well as he could before and he dislikes it, it’s why I asked you guys not to stare at the hole.”

  
  


“... O-oh.” Was her only response to that.

  
  


Apparently no dislike was strong enough to withstand hearing about even a sliver of Skull’s past.

  
  


...

  
  


... Eventually, she sighed.

  
  


“Alright.” She put her hands up, defeated. “Alright, I’ll give them a chance. Just the one.”

  
  


... You grinned, allowing yourself to breathe again. If you could convince your mom you could convince anyone.

  
  


“Just...” ... She closed the distance between the two of you, grabbing your hands in her own and squeezing them. The move was so unlike her that you stared at your clasped hands for a moment, then glanced back up at her, taken aback, her eyes filled with that familiar intensity you knew so well despite the clear lines of age on her face now.

  
  


What was she doing?

  
  


Her eyes crinkled at the corners. _“..._ _Please_ don’t keep things like this from us. You can trust us, you know? Your father is a complete pushover, he’ll accept anything you say if he really believes you’re happy. And I _know_ you get all your stubbornness from me so nothing I could ever say would change your mind, but... I just need to know you’re safe. I just need to know you're okay, and if something happened to you, you don't feel like you couldn't speak to me. Okay?”

  
  


“... Okay, Mom." You swallowed. "I’m sorry.”

  
  


She hugged you again. “Me too.”

  
  


... Well. That was the closest you’d ever gotten from actually hearing an apology from your mom. You hugged her back, tight- she had a point. You didn’t have to give them every tiny detail of what was happening so they could helicopter you but they at least deserved to know that you were safe and fed. Unlike some people's parents, you were aware that yours genuinely had your best interests at hear-

  
  


...

  
  


And it hit you (ironically 'hit'), as you hugged her, your eyes widening.

  
  


... She was right.

  
  


She had no idea just how right she was. She had no ideaa you'd been drugged, hurt, _kidnapped._

  
  


She was totally _right_ to be suspicious. She was totally in the right to not trust the guys off the bat, to hold on to her suspicion despite your pleas. Because _one of them_ **kidnapped** _you._ You suddenly felt sick, _guilty-_ Hit had used your blind trust in him as a weapon. He'd used the fact that he shared your crush's face as a _tool_ to hurt you. If the guys hadn't found you, if Skull hadn't been there...

  
  


... You squeezed her tight, pressing your face into her shoulder, guilt eating you up.

  
  


"... (y/n)?" She asked.

  
  


_You would've never seen her or Dad again._

  
  


"Is everything okay?"

  
  


...

  
  


... It was probably best she thought Skull was the worst of them.

  
  


...

  
  


Hit could wait for another day.

  
  


... You took a breath, parting from the hug, nodding until you could clear your throat enough to speak. You focused on her face, on her perfume... you were here. Hit was gone. Everything _was_ okay.

  
  


"Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright at the moment. I'll... I'll tell you another time."

  
  


...

  
  


For once, she seemed to understand that right now, she didn't need to/shouldn't press.

  
  


“Alright." She acquiesced. "Let’s go back in there. I’m sure they heard the whole thing through the walls anyway.”

  
  


... Oh yeah.

  
  


You chuckled, slightly embarrassed, allowing yourself to mentally move on from Hit for the moment. Yeah, they must’ve heard the argument side of it... neither of you tried to hold back when it peaked.

  
  


The two of you came back into the living room, your face slightly pink. I mean, it wasn’t like the guys had never seen you angry before, but it was still _somewhat_ mortifying. One thing you didn’t inherit from your mom (but you kind of wished you did) what her complete imperviousness to embarrassment or shame. If she yelled, she yelled- that was her problem and no one else’s.

  
  


... You were surprised to see Red, Sans and your dad sat at the table. Red turned in his seat to look (had his back to you), Sans next to your dad... the latter grinned and waved, holding something in his other hand...

  
  


... Far too many Uno cards.

  
  


“Are you done?” He asked, clearly enjoying himself. “Your friends are lovely, (y/n). Absolutely _merciless_ at Uno.”

  
  


Red shot you a grin that seemed to say ‘i told you i got this’. You couldn’t help but smile too, totally relieved.

  
  


“he had some hope at the beginnin’, but sans started a chain of +4s and that was it.”

  
  


You raised a brow. “I thought the official rules said you weren’t allowed to stack plus cards?”

  
  


“Oh, psht.” Your dad played a card. “That’s a bad rule. We choose to ignore it.”

  
  


“Pft... I see. Where’s Skull?” You asked, approaching the table, going behind your dad to peer over his shoulder and check what his chances of winning were. Just being around people made you feel so much better already. “And can I join next round?”

  
  


“Course.” Dad said, sorting through his many cards so you could see. “I didn’t even know there were that many +4s in the whole _deck.”_

  
  


“i’m sorry.” Sans said, clearly trying to hold in laughter.

  
  


“Nonsense.” Dad replied, resolutely. “The truest friends are the most cruel at cards.”

  
  


“skull’s cookin’ dinner.” Red said, giving you a wink that was far too visible. “he wanted to do something nice.”

  
  


“Oh!” Your mom jumped to attention like she’d just been hit with a _ruler._ “He’s doing it alone? Absolutely _not!_ I’ll help out.”

  
  


“don’t you want to come sit and play too?” Sans was down to two cards. He looked like the winner at the moment...

  
  


“No, no, but thank you.” She waved it off. “I get... _competitive._ You stay here, (y/n), I’ll go help Skull.”

  
  


“M-Mom,” you stood up straighter. “are you sure that’s...”

  
  


“I’m sure we’ll be _fine.”_... She gave you a light smile.

  
  


_Let me give him a chance, like you asked._

  
  


...

  
  


“Yeah.” You forced yourself to loosen. “Yeah, okay. Call me if you need anything.”

  
  


She rolled up her sleeves and headed to the kitchen- you pulled up a chair with the guys just as _Red_ won the game (Sans hadn't been able to match either of his cards), slamming down a +4 and throwing his hands in the air to light applause from everyone.

  
  


“It’s for the best that it’s just us.” Your dad said, picking up the cards and piling them in front of him. “I love my wife very much but most games become life or death situations for her. I had to ‘lose’ all our decks for everyone’s safety.”

  
  


“ya got rid of all yer cards?” Red grinned. “how will you ever _deal_ with the loss?”

  
  


... Your dad paused for a moment.

  
  


...

  
  


“Sorry Sans.” He said, bridge shuffling the pack. “Red is my new favourite.”

  
  


“nooo!”

  
  


\---

  
  


You could tell Skull and your mom had made a connection over their shared love of cooking, judging by how good the meal was. And you were absolutely pleasantly surprised by just how _open_ Skull seemed- the fact that he said _multiple_ full sentences over the dinner table, most of which got your parents to laugh out loud (Mom in particular), brought you so much pride you felt like you were going to burst.

  
  


Overall... you sort of regretted making your parents only spend one evening. Everyone seemed to just... click. Mom was definitely fond of Skull, Dad thought Sans and Red were the best people you could possibly have met...

  
  


... It was so much better than you could’ve anticipated. The guys seemed actually a little sad to see your parents go.

  
  


You took them out of the apartment and down the stairs after some goodbyes, out to their car. You weren't even able to start saying anything- your mom grabbed you in another hug.

  
  


“Well, I’m going to have to admit it.” Your mom said, parting only when you patted her back. “You were right. That Skull boy is lovely. Very talented with spices.”

  
  


Dad gave you a gentle elbow bump. “Remember this moment. Your mother is admitting she was wrong. It won’t happen for another two decades.”

  
  


She lightly bopped him on the shoulder with her coat, saying something about how that’s unfair, she _always_ admits when she’s wrong, walking around the car to get in. Your dad winked at you laughed as silently as possible as he opened the driver’s side door, stepping in and rolling down the window all the way to talk to you.

  
  


“Thanks for having us over despite the 'roommates issue'.” He chuckled, starting the car.

  
  


You crouched down slightly to be at his eye level. “It was really good having you over. You should come again sometimes.”

  
  


“We definitely will. I’ll bring more card games.”

  
  


You stepped back, pulling your coat further around you, your breath escaping in puffs. You felt _significantly_ better than you did this just a few hours earlier in the same position... and you were actually sad to see them go. There'd been no racism, the only argument was between you and your mother, everyone got along... how could it have possibly gone any better? Dad pulled the car out of the spot carefully, typical of him.

  
  


“And (y/n)?” He shouted, out the window.

  
  


“Yeah?”

  
  


“You’re _terrible_ at hiding how much you like them. Tell them they’ve all got permission to marry you!”

  
  


...

  
  


... You immediately went _beetroot_ red.

  
  


_“DAD!”_

  
  


Too late. The car was driving away, leaving you standing by your apartment door, the tips of your ears burning... the nipping cold suddenly not enough to keep you from overheating.


	34. Blood is thicker than dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get some insight into Red's world.

_could i just be happy here forever?_

  
  


_..._

  
  


**_Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep-_ **

  
  


You hit your alarm with a groan, instinctively knowing where it was, squeezing your eyes shut for a few more precious seconds before peeling them open. It was still pitch black outside, and the only light in the room was the unpleasantly bright face of the alarm clock glaring at you.

  
  


You sighed, stretching as best you could, yawning and wriggling your toes a little before ducking your arms back under the covers. It was so warm, so comfortable... and it was so dark outside, maybe just...

  
  


... Just a few more seconds...

  
  


... “... sweetheart. yer beeper did its beepin.” Red’s voice was a husky groan directly behind you that sent a small shiver down your spine. His breath disturbed a few stray hairs on the back of your head. “think that means it’s up time.”

  
  


“Mmmm, I _know.”_ You mumbled, soft, patting his thick arm wrapped securely around your middle under the duvet. You weren’t sure when he’d appeared in your room last night but you weren’t complaining at all. “Five more minutes.”

  
  


“we both know five minutes is gonna turn inta five hours if you go back t’sleep now.”

  
  


“Shush.” You shut your eyes, patting turning into rubbing your thumb over all the scars and tiny crevices in his ulna.

  
  


He shuffled, giving you a little squeeze on your tummy, voice getting a playful lilt. “so you ain’t movin’ on your own?”

  
  


“Nope.”

  
  


He sat up, one arm still around your middle, the other used to prop his head up so he could look down at you and see your face. “am i gonna have to take action?”

  
  


No reply. You were determined to just get a few more minutes in your warm haven before going out into the cold harsh world to work.

  
  


Red purred. “last chance to get up yerself before i take things into my own hands...”

  
  


... You stuck your tongue out and made a sleepy ‘plbthht’ sound, eyes still closed.

  
  


“aight.” Another shuffle and a hard-done-to sigh. “you brought this on yourself.”

  
  


...

  
  


Suddenly and without warning, boney phalanges pressed _directly_ into your most sensitive tickle spot. You _shrieked_ in alarm, eyes snapping open, and shoved your hands backwards against his chest to push away from him- but it was no use- that arm wound around your middle had become a _lock._ Your shriek turned into a _squeal_ that soon broke into uncontrollable laughter as you curled up and tried to defend yourself from the tickle onslaught.

  
  


“N-no- EEK!! Nooooo, stop- AhaHAAha- _STOOP!”_ You kicked at his femurs, helplessly laughing and beating at his arm. How was he so good at tickling!? You’d assumed his sharp phalanges would be uncomfortable and pokey to be tickled with but he seemingly knew _exactly_ how hard to press in what spot to make your nerves trip out and send you into hysterical giggles. “Stoop! We’re gonna- EEP!- gonna wake up the neighbours!! I-I’ll get up I’ll get up _I’ll get up!”_

  
  


“too late. you had your chance...” He gave you a second to wheeze in a breath and attempt (fail) escape as he rolled on top of you, gold tooth flashing in the light of your alarm clock, knees planted on either side of your thighs as he smirked down at you with that sharp and treacherous smile. “can’t believe sans trusted me with info like where yer tickle spots are. big mistake.”

  
  


Your eyes widened. _“S-Sans_ told you...?” _Betrayal of the highest order?!?!_

  
  


“be surprised how much people slip when they’re relaxed.” His smile was borderline _evil._ All he had to do was raise a single (surprisingly sharp) phalange for you to immediately instinctively seize up in preparation for further tickle attacks. “an’ you bet i’m gonna use that to my advantage~...”

  
  


“N-no!!” You grabbed his hand with both of yours, most of the desperation in your tone sarcastic but a small portion of it real. “No more torture! Please!! I’ll make a deal!!”

  
  


“... hmm?” He crooned, clearly enjoying himself, moving his hand to link fingers with one of your much much smaller ones. “what bargain could you possibly make?”

  
  


“I’ll get up... _and_ I’ll give you a kiss.”

  
  


“cranium?”

  
  


“Cheekbone.”

  
  


“done.” That was fast. But you didn’t look the gift horse in the mouth- you sat up and pressed a small smooch to the side of his face, just above the crack in his upper jaw where the golden tooth was situated. He shut his sockets and let out a small, pleased purr.

  
  


“That okay?” You asked.

  
  


“mm... satisfactory. you may escape.”

  
  


You scooted out of bed, heading over to your dresser to grab some clean clothes. As much as you would’ve preferred to _not_ be ticked you did have to admit that you felt far more awake after Red’s assault on your nervous system.

  
  


You groped around in the darkness, having passed the alarm (your only source of vision), eyes still adjusting to the pitch black as you used the wall to guide you to the light switch. It felt like it’d been forever since you’d had to wander blindly through your bedroom to the light... you’d spend so much time sleeping in until at _least_ dawn.

  
  


“you’re so adorable.” Red said, a purr.

  
  


“... Pft. I’m just walking.” You giggled, turning and looking over your shoulder. It was kinda spooky to see barely anything of him but his tiny, glowing red eyelights, piercing through the darkness...

  
  


“i know. but you can’t see shit in the dark, can you?” You knew it was just him, but... a small part of you, a nagging remainder of instinct... it saw those eyes gleaming in the black and whispered _predator._ It sent a little shiver down your spine. “it’s like watchin’ a baby deer try to walk. jus’ makes me wanna scoop you up and squeeze you.”

  
  


You responded by turning on the light, hoping to hide your embarrassment by blinding him with the glare of the lightbulb, quickly hurrying over to your dresser to grab some clothes. The prey in your subconscious quietened down again once you had adequate vision.

  
  


“... Mind scooting out while I get dressed?” You asked, pulling an appropriate shirt from your pile.

  
  


“sure.” He replied, voice modified by a long, slow yawn.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


_Smack!_

  
  


You squawked and jumped bolt upright, spinning around, holding your butt. Somehow, you always seemed to forget how quietly the guys could move around if they didn’t want you to hear them.

  
  


_“Red!”_

  
  


He just cackled to himself, dodging your swat with aggravating ease, and heading toward the door with an easygoing quiet whistle.

  
  


...

  
  


You suddenly started...

  
  


... Thinking.

  
  


...

  
  


“... Uhm... wait, Red?” You said, just before he got to the door, brushing off the ass of your pyjamas. You were quite surprised at how suddenly nervous you sounded to yourself. Were you really that afraid?

  
  


He looked over his shoulder, sockets slightly lidded. “hm?”

  
  


“... Could...” You swallowed. “Could you... take me to work? I don’t... wanna walk around...”

  
  


“... by yourself?” The understanding and kindness in his voice immediately made any possible worries you may have had leak away, and you nodded.

  
  


He grinned, soft. “sure. lemme just get some clothes on. gimme a shout when you’re ready to head out.”

  
  


\---

  
  


You emerged from the far-too-familiar office building in the evening, having refilled the printer, put the night phone on and cleared up your desk, leaving the rest for the cleaners who would come by any minute now. Your strained mind couldn’t handle a single fucking appointment more than what you’d already scheduled... you were completely unused to working after spending all that time recovering from what _he_ did, that your poor abused brain was _so_ desperate to slot itself back into that almost _hypnotic_ trance of just turning itself off and performing all work-related tasks by muscle memory.

  
  


The door opened and the cold washed over you like someone dumped a bucket of ice water directly over your head. You immediately took a small shivery breath in and swore as delicately as was possible, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck and readjusting your coat’s sleeves to cover the tops of your hands, balling your tiny fingers into your palm to hopefully preserve their warmth.

  
  


(You’d forgotten your gloves this morning in your sleepy haze... a moron.)

  
  


You stepped out, and...

  
  


... Your feet made a light _crunch_ noise against the usual silent tarmac.

  
  


You jumped, confused and more than slightly taken aback, looking down at your shoes.

  
  


...

  
  


_Snow._

  
  


There was actual, properly sticky piled snow on the tarmac.

  
  


At that moment, something pricked you on the nose- you looked up.

  
  


... Snowflakes! You blinked in surprise; little bright flakes were drifting down from the almost pitch black clouded sky above you, flashing in bright colours as they caught the city lights in them. Unlike the slush you’d stood in the previous day while waiting for your parents, it wasn’t plopping down like bird crap- the flakes whirled and drifted like falling feathers, forming into blankets and piles wherever you looked.

  
  


Christmas and New Year was already over; but apparently, January was bringing snow!

  
  


“nice, huh?”

  
  


You glanced away from the sky and to your left- Red was leaning up against the wall, suddenly next to you. He’d... he’d waited for you? Your heart immediately thumped in your chest in appreciation, a smile pulling at your cheeks. You’d been planning on calling someone to come get you anyway... the fact that he’d gone out of his way to _wait for you_ just made you feel so... _listened_ to.

  
  


Watched out for.

  
  


“It’s lovely.” You grabbed his big, warm hand and squeezed. “Cold, but... really lovely. Can we walk for a bit?”

  
  


“sure.” He squeezed back, gentle.

  
  


You didn’t want to let go of his hand. And he didn’t make you, either- your digits were nice and protected, almost completely encased in his huge mitt. Although it’d definitely been annoying and noticeable when you were first getting to know the guys, nowadays you’d grown to appreciate the fact that people instinctively moved/ducked out of Red’s way. You were so used to being jostled about by rushed crowds desperate to get home, or apologising randomly while you and a complete stranger try to step out of each other’s ways in the same directions, or having to duck behind something to allow a stream of people to filter past you, or being squished between two idiots on the subway, or needing to walk just slower than your normal pace because a group of morons were taking up the whole sidewalk... when you had Red towering beside you, one hand in his and the other clinging to his arm to get as close as possible on the crowded pavement or in the jam-packed carriages, the seas parted and your pace was unbroken, unbothered.

  
  


Eventually, the two of you got out of the busier part of the city and the noise died down. Soon, the only sounds were both of your shoes crunching in the ever-fresher snow, and your slightly laboured breath (His easygoing strides were a lot larger than yours but you were too embarrassed to ask him to slow down. Plus, it was a good way to warm up) as each puff came out in little rushes of crystallised steam.

  
  


Maybe if you’d lived in the country you’d be feeling slightly less like an excited child- but the fact of the matter was that your city barely ever got _proper_ snow. Proper, soft, romantic snow. It was hail, slush, or just really really _icy_ cold rain. And the snow that fell wouldn’t survive very long being trampled constantly on the pavement by the people walking by... unless it snowed overnight when everyone was asleep, it wouldn’t stay longer than a few hours.

  
  


... Suddenly, Red stopped short. He muttered something, winking one socket repeatedly and putting his palm up to it.

  
  


“Uh... You ok?”

  
  


“stupid...” He winked again, looking at the ground. “sorry, got... some dumbass bit of snow landed in my goddamn socket...”

  
  


You snorted. “Take your time.”

  
  


...

  
  


But as you were watching him fiddle with his socket until he could get rid of whatever was irritating it, it... reminded you of what he’d told you about his bad vision. The two of you started to walk again in silence. You began to think about the other day, about what he’d said when your parents were about to come over...

  
  


_“... parents can suck.”_

  
  


...

  
  


“... Red?” You squeezed his arm. He looked down at you, apparently immediately catching how soft your voice had gone.

  
  


“... uh... yeah, sweetheart?” Jeez he was _already_ slightly on edge, you could feel the tension in his arm, in the delicate thrum of his magic. No matter how good he got at feelings he always seemed to tighten at the mention of them.

  
  


Just... take it slowly, (y/n). Carefully. “... I’m... Can I ask you a personal question? You don’t have to answer.”

  
  


“... sure.” He scratched the back of his cranium.

  
  


_Carefully._ “... What were your parents like?”

  
  


...

  
  


He stopped walking. His eyelights shrank into dots.

  
  


...

  
  


“You don’t have to answer.” You quickly repeated. It felt like a nervous, attentive dance. Reach out, but not so much he feels cornered... pull back, but not so far he thinks you don’t care...

  
  


...

  
  


He sighed after a hot minute, pressing his palm over his sockets. “i s’pose it ain’t hard to tell it’s not all sunshine an’ rainbows, huh?”

  
  


... You nodded. “... The only time you mentioned your dad, it was about... your vision.”

  
  


“... i don’t even remember tellin’ ya that.” He grinned, weakly, free hand shoving into his pocket. A flake of snow landed on his shoulder.

  
  


You reached up and brushed it off, gently. “I figured it just slipped. ...Didn’t want to dwell on it. You seemed to be in such a good mood.”

  
  


...

  
  


“We can leave it, if you don’t...”

  
  


He took your hand on his shoulder, now holding both of your hands. “no, no. s’probably good to talk about it. what’d skull say...? somethin’ about halvin’ a problem...?”

  
  


You smiled, glad he was happy to open up to you. _“‘A problem shared is a problem halved’.”_

  
  


“an’ if i could halve my problem with anyone i’d want it to be you.” He winked.

  
  


Your cheeks (and the tips of your ears) started to tingle, increasing in temperature.

  
  


... His smile drooped a bit. “... you sure you wanna know?”

  
  


“Only if you wanna tell.”

  
  


...

  
  


He sighed again, a rush of transparent steam escaping from between his razor fangs.

  
  


“i don’t remember much about mom. i remember a few things she taught me, a coupla essential lessons for a lil’ monster...” His tone was... _oddly resentful?_ And there was a crease between his brows- Were you hearing that right? “things were okayish when she was around. not that many memories, nothing worth remembering. but, ah... just after pap was born she got real sick, and... well, in a couple of days, that was it. dust.”

  
  


... His eyelights softened a little when he noticed your horrified expression.

  
  


“ah, s’alright. don’t gimme that sad lil’ face.” He said, gentle, teasing. “i don’t really remember her enough to miss anythin’ about her.”

  
  


“... You just... you sound like... you...”

  
  


“hate her?”

  
  


... You nodded. So you _weren’t_ mistaking the tone of his voice.

  
  


“eh, i did for a long time. still do.” He glanced away. “kinda... felt like if she’d just pulled her shit together and lived a few more years, or hell- long enough for any of us t’say goodbye and get a lil’ emotional closure... my life wouldnt’ve been such an absolute fuckin’ mess. after she kicked the bucket _everythin’_ went to shit.”

  
  


“... Like how?”

  
  


... He pursed his lips, looking back at you. “... well, y’know how i ain’t the best at adressin’ feelings?”

  
  


... You nodded. But... Where was he going with this?

  
  


“turns out that’s hereditary. g wasn’t that bad of a parent at first, at least by _monster_ standards. just a lil’ strict.”

  
  


“... What’s monster standards?” You felt like it was _very_ different from your universe’s monsters.

  
  


“constant ass whoopings. it was encouraged. toughen yer kid up, make ‘em fight back... hell, i think some parents i knew made their kids fight each other when they were in trouble, an’ the winner wouldn’t get punished.”

  
You let out a tiny breath. “That’s _awful.”_

  
  


He shrugged. “was normal. mom was a big fat exception, she wouldn’t let g punish us physically.”

  
  


... Red’s expression suddenly seemed... far away. But.. with a touch of confusion? His brows were still drawn.

  
  


“... i ain’t got the foggiest clue what an honest an’ kind soul like her was doin’ in the underground, or how she survived long enough to have kids. let alone with a fuckin’ psychopath like g. after mom died... i think his soul went with her.” ... He seemed more and more distant by the second, his grip on your hand increasing. “he used to throw things at me for no reason. i dunno, i look the most like mom, maybe he just always looked at me and was reminded of her. made him think about her and that made him mad. but, heheh, he _really_ hated pap...”

  
  


His eyelights shrank to lightyears-far stars.

  
  


“... like. he _viciously_ hated him. think skull levels of hatred. his birth weakened mom a lot right before she got sick. it was g’s damn fault for not saving her. i had to keep pissing g off all the time so he’d stop paying attention to pap, he was just a baby. my only stand-out memories of g...” his eyelights were almost gone,“... it’s a lot of yelling, a lot of... of alcohol... a _lot_ of alcohol... and... _... a-and...”_

  
  


His voice suddenly _cracked,_ like glass with too much pressure behind it. He slapped a hand over his mouth as if he was trying to keep something in- you immediately pushed yourself up on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around his neck. He gripped the back of your coat with his free hand, sucking in a deep, short, panicked breath that almost sounded like a _sob._

  
  


“Shh, shh...” You stroked the back of his skull.

  
  


“i-i _had_ to get pap out!” He sounded so small, so desperate, muffled by his hand. “i-i just took him and ran, i couldn’t do it anymore, i-i couldn’t... he was just a _baby,_ he w-wouldn’t be able to take it like i could if g decided... he _really_ hurt him... it wasn’t _pap’s_ fault, and g knocked my fuckin’ _tooth_ out when i told him!”

  
  


You pulled away, holding his cheekbones in both hands, swiping away some tears with your thumb... God, his face was an ugly _mess_ of tears. He immediately brought his hands up and started using his sleeves to wipe the dampness off of his face, smile already long gone.

  
  


“Red, look at me.” You said. “Deep breaths. It’s just me.”

  
  


You didn’t want to think about how long he’d been holding all of that in, letting it fester, letting it _consume_ him. He pulled his hands away- he was forcing air into his chest in deep gasps of breath, trying to calm himself down. “g-god, i... i fuckin’ _hate_ crying. i hate it.”

  
  


You needed to get him talking again. “... You ran away with Pap, right?”

  
  


He seemed frustrated with himself for not being able to calm down, not being able to shut up. “i-i had to. he cut his face. i couldn’t stay there.”

  
  


... You nodded. “...You did the right thing.”

  
  


... He glanced at you, his breathing immediately becoming (noticeably) less difficult for him. He seemed... surprised, at that? Like he wasn’t expecting you to approve of him removing his brother from a violent situation.

  
  


“...but... i-i raised him so fucking shitty.” His deep, usually silky voice now sounded worn and rough. At least he was starting to calm down a little, focusing on talking instead of hating himself for crying... He narrowed his sockets. “oh, fucking... shitty, _shittily..._ whatever.”

  
  


“... How old were you?”

  
  


“...” He took a second, eyelights losing their intense, needle sharpness. As he thought he calmed down even further, pulling himself out of his moment. “... like... 4. 5 at most.”

  
  


“Exactly.” You pressed a kiss to his jaw.

  
  


The lip contact made his eyelights dilate a little more (thank God) and he took a few moments to blink as he searched for something to say.

  
  


“but... i should’ve...”

  
  


“Forget ‘should’ve’.” You ran your hand over his skull like you were petting it. “You know what I think? From what you’ve told me?”

  
  


... He was quiet, waiting for your response. Was he nervous? It definitely felt like it. His phalanges were tight and still.

  
  


“I think you’re amazing for doing it.”

  
  


... He let out a ‘psht’ of air between his teeth, looking away. The tears had finally completely stopped and you definitely didn’t miss the haze of carmine appearing on his cheekbones, hoarse voice beginning its recovery. “oh, come off it. you don’t gotta suck up to make me feel better.”

  
  


“I’m serious.” You continued, not letting him get away from it. “You recognised it wasn’t Papyrus’ fault for being born, something a grown adult in the same home couldn’t do. You took the blows for him to keep him safe, which is an incredibly selfless thing to do. When things got too dangerous, you made the move to leave everything you’d ever known to escape an abusive situation. And at the age where most people are still figuring out their abcs, learning how to hold a pen... you were single-handedly caring for and _providing_ for your baby brother.”

  
  


... He’d gone silent, eyelights trained on you.

  
  


“... Doesn’t that sound amazing, Red? That someone could do all of that?”

  
  


...

  
  


... He caught your hand on the back of his skull near his spine and instead moved it to his jaw, pressing his mouth into your palm.

  
  


“yeah, that...” He was starting to get his voice back properly. “... that does sound pretty impressive.”

  
  


“Exactly.” You smiled.

  
  


...

  
  


He chuckled, weak, letting go of your hand and using his sleeve to wipe the damp patches under his sockets again, letting out a large sigh that seemed to clear all the stale air out of his bones.

  
  


“... sorry.” He murmured. “you wanted to know what my parents were like and i just broke into pieces on you.”

  
  


You shook your head. “Don’t be sorry. It’s good to get all your sads out.”

  
  


That made him chuckle again, this time significantly louder. His eyelights were so soft and round they were almost _huggable,_ sockets lidded. “... yeah. you’re right. i feel shitloads better.”

  
  


... He leant forward and pressed his smooth, warm forehead against yours, letting his sockets shut completely, a soft breath caressing your cold cheeks and making them prickle with warmth.

  
  


"... you guys're my real family." He whispered. You stared up at him, eyes wide, his whole face less than inches away from you... but he didn't make a move or another sound. He'd spoken so quietly, so warmly, and with so much _emotion..._ it couldn't have been more than a thought he didn't intend to say out loud.

  
  


... Is that how he really felt? Your heart squeezed, and you had to swallow down any replies to stop yourself from getting choked up. He considered you all his _family.._. you were the people who cared about him the most and made him feel safest.

  
  


You'd always known that 'blood is thicker than water' was bullshit. Your genetic or biological tie to someone had no guarantee that they were a good person or had your best interests in mind, and anyone who tried to use their blood tie to you in order to coerce you into feeling a certain way was no true 'family'. Your family, your _real_ family...

  
  


... That was always going to be the people who made you feel safe, comfortable and loved.

  
  


In this case, love was thicker than blood, magic... or dust.

  
  


“Come on.” You squeezed Red's hand, speaking softly so as not to startle him out of whatever reverie he was in, reminding him he was here with you. Said hand felt a little colder than normal, but... it was still warm, and comfortable to hold. “Let’s head back. I can feel the snow piling in my hair."

  
  


“i don’t want to leave.” He said, small.

  
  


“Red, we gotta. I’m gonna freeze.”

  
  


... He opened his sockets. His expression seemed strange for a moment.

  
  


...

  
  


But he shook his head and grinned, parting his forehead from yours to look up to watch the snow fall. “... yeah, yer right. let’s go home. yer slowly but surely turnin’ into a snowman.”

  
  


...

  
  


“...uh. what’s that?”

  
  


...

  
  


You follow his line of sight upward to an electrical wire a few feet above you. Tied to it, neatly, hanging _directly_ over the two of you the whole time, was...

  
  


... A sprig of mistletoe.

  
  


Your heart thumped a little bit. It was clearly left over from Christmas. Someone had tied it up there and forgotten to take it down- and judging by how your neighbourhood was relatively out of the way from all the important hustle and bustle, it wasn’t going to be down again until somewhere in mid March.

  
  


“Oh.” You said, looking back at Red, feeling your cheeks prickle again. This time, the warmth was your own. “It’s, uhm, mistletoe.”

  
  


His sockets narrowed. “mistle whatnow?”

  
  


“Yeah. Mistletoe. It’s just some weird human tradition...” You managed to muffle the exact points of the tradition by pressing your mouth into your coat.

  
  


... He looked down at you, raising a brow bone, clearly catching the embarrassed lilt to your voice.

  
  


“... what kind of tradition?”

  
  


“Traditionally, if two people are stood under mistletoe, they......” Further into the coat. Why was your face so red? And your _heart,_ goddamnit, it felt like it was in your throat. You’d kissed Red before! You’d _made out_ with him! Why did a piece of plant make it any different? “Th.. they, uhm... _havetokiss...”_

  
  


... Red’s sockets _immediately_ lit up, bursting into life. Ah, there we go... _that_ was the Red you knew.

  
  


“they _gotta,_ huh?” He purred. “it’s _tradition?”_

  
  


You made a face. “Since when did you care about tradi-”

  
  


You didn’t even have time to finish, his lips were already against yours.


	35. Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days somehow manage to toe the line between wonderfully perfect... and crushingly awful.

_why... why does the thought of things going back to how they were... make me feel_ _**sick?** _

  
  


“you going somewhere?” Sans asked, from the couch.

  
  


“The outdoor rink is actually _open.”_ You sat down to put your heavier duty boots that would allow you to actually walk on a snowy street to the rink without your feet freezing into blocks, like they would in your normal shoes. “I’m not going to just sit inside and waste it. I can be lazy any other day. Who’s coming with?”

  
  


You knew _someone_ would want to go there with you- well... you _hoped_ someone would go. If no one offered, you wouldn’t do it; you didn’t have the confidence to be alone in public anymore. But hey, whether out of actual desire to go or the need to protect you after your disappearance, so long as you seemed desperate enough to go, you were certain at least one of them would accompany you! The rink was beautiful, even when it wasn’t even operational... a large, open area, the sides usually decorated with small leftover cheap Christmas ornaments and fairy lights. Who cares if it’s way into the new year? It’s the atmosphere that counts.

  
  


Red sat up. He definitely seemed to have lost a little weight in his shoulders after your.. discussion. You were so glad he felt more comfortable. “i’ll go. no harm in bein’ outside.”

  
  


Skull didn’t even say anything, he just got up and headed over to the box of hats and gloves and scarves that’d slowly been accumulating over their time here as you picked stuff up for them, digging around for something that would look like it fitted him. Sans responded by flopping in his seat like a ragdoll with its strings cut, sighing to himself.

  
  


“guess we’re all going, then.”

  
  


“Cheer up, grouchy.” You all but purred, as Red poofed up to the door to grab a coat. So you were _all_ going! That was _perfect!_ You immediately felt much better. “I thought you’d be the first up. Years of attempts have come to this- we can finally go.”

  
  


“... ‘finally’?” Red glanced over to you. _“years?”_

  
  


“Sans has been trying to get me into the rink with him every winter since he started being nice.” You giggled. “But it’s always been closed for some reason or another. Last year it was under construction, the year before it wasn’t cold enough...”

  
  


“i wanted it to be romantic.” He finally stood up, brushing his pants off. He wouldn’t look at you- you could tell he was thinking about all his failed attempts at being amorous by the slight blue tinge on his cheekbones. Now that you knew he’d been into you the whole time, you couldn’t help but think back on all of the times where he’d friendzoned you... it’d been immediately after anything soft or passionate, hadn’t it? With the benefit of hindsight you could see he was _trying_ to be lovey-dovey and just instantly panicked and got scared you didn’t like him. You felt like such an _idiot..._ such a dense idiot. “they usually have some mistletoe up that they’ve forgotten to take down post-christmas.”

  
  


“... what’s special about mistletoe?” Skull asked, pulling a black hat with a blue bobble over his head, neatly covering the giant hole but leaving a few cracks visible around his socket.

  
  


“you gotta smooch if you both stand under it.” Red was wrapping a crimson scarf around his visible ‘neck’- Sans looked at you, sockets narrowing.

  
  


“... how does he know that?”

  
  


You just smiled, flushing a tiny bit, shrugging and tapping your toes on the floor three times on each side to make sure the boots were properly on. You had mittens this time too, you weren’t going to make the same mistake twice; and although you definitely enjoyed holding warm skeleton hands to keep your fingers from freezing, you weren’t going to be able to do it every step of the way.

  
  


“Let’s just go have fun at the rink! You can g-”

  
  


Before you could even move toward the door, you were stopped by Sans teleporting in front of you, appearing in a tiny rush of air and a soft crackle of magic. He had a bobble hat in his hands- that he immediately pulled down over your head.

  
  


“you’re not walking anywhere without a hat. you’ll catch a chill.” He said, voice as close to stern as he could get it.

  
  


You hooked your thumb under it and lifted it up a little so you could actually see... then leant forward and gave him a small peck on the tip of his nasal ridge, lightly, the gentle tint of blue on his cheekbones intensifying despite his best attempt at a strict expression. “Thanks mom.”

  
  


“whatever, whatever. let’s just go. alright?”

  
  


\---

  
  


Why did you think this was a good idea?

  
  


You didn’t mind that the entry fee was extortionately high. You didn’t mind that there were a lot of people on the rink- it was a decently sized rink, after all! Hell, you even didn’t mind that some of the fairy lights along the outside of the rink weren’t working. It added to the ambiance of the occasion in some strange way.

  
  


You stepped out onto the ice in your provided slightly ill-fitting white ice skate shoes...

  
  


... And immediately, any and all confidence in gravity left you.

  
  


You hadn’t been skating in _forever._ In that time, you’d begun to grossly overestimate your ability to balance yourself. Immediately you grabbed the side railing and felt one foot fly out from underneath you as if you were standing on...

  
  


... well, _ice._

  
  


“Oh no.” You said to yourself, softly, your knees literally quaking.

  
  


“heads up.” Sans’ voice sounded behind you. You looked up- just in time for him to slip an arm around your middle and pull you away from the safety of the railing. _No!!!!_ The smooth wood slipped out of your grasp and you suddenly, inexplicably, felt an understanding and kinship with baby chicks thrown out of the nest.

  
  


_Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh crap._

  
  


“No, nononono, wait, wait!” Your legs wobbled, overly conscious of the ice passing quickly underneath them, and you gripped both his closest shoulder to you and the hand on your hip, eyes wide. “I-I forgot that I’m an idiot, nevermind!”

  
  


“shh. _chill.”_ He was doing his best attempt at comforting you. You glanced down at your feet, the ice rushing by underneath you, _why did you organise this..._

  
  


... Wait.

  
  


... Sans was moving like a professional skater, sliding each foot forward in a fluent, seemingly instinctive rhythm that powered him forward effortlessly and cleanly. It was like he was dancing on the ice itself, totally naturally. You looked back up at him, noting his smug smile... Why didn’t you know about this beforehand? How long had he been able to skate like an _angel?_

  
  


“... W-wow.” You said, voice shaking just as much as your knees. “...You’re... you’re really good at this.”

  
  


“don’t look so surprised. told you i was a skaterboi.”

  
  


He let go of your shoulder. You made a tiny squeaking sound and flailed, trying to grab back and retain some stability- he kicked forward smoothly, spinning around on one skate and _skating_ _backwards_ in front of you, retrieving your waving hand with a grin. He did it all in one amazing, fluid movement... and he _winked_ at you afterward.

  
  


“Wh- _what?”_ You weren’t moving either of your feet, instead keeping them train-track parallel, watching him skate backwards with seemingly no effort. Why were you _blushing?_ “I didn’t know you were _this_ good!”

  
  


He chuckled, pulling you a tiny bit closer as he widened his stance to help the two of you slowly swing around the end of the rink to head back down the other end again. “pap and i were at the lake almost every day of the year. best place to go to meet the locals and get to know everyone... bend your knees, kiddo.”

  
  


You didn’t think twice about disobeying the apparent Master of Skating. You bent your knees a little, still frightened- and upon feeling your legs wobble you let out another tiny scared squeak and shot Sans a look that you hoped said ‘help me’ and not ‘I think I’m going to die’. He was watching you with the same expression you might watch use to adoringly watch a baby try to walk; it made the middle of your face and the tips of your ears feel like they were on _fire._

  
  


You opened your mouth to ask him something, and-

  
  


A stronger, thicker arm hooked around your upper arm with ease. Your frictionless feet changed direction and your hands slipped out of Sans’s; his loving grin fell to a slightly annoyed scowl.

  
  


“that,” Red purred, going at an _uncomfortably_ high speed around the rink with perfect confidence. “an’ point yer cute lil’ toes out diagonally.”

  
  


“Don’tletmego.” you gripped his thick arm so tight your knuckles were white, and your legs started to splay apart as they fought for _any_ grip on the rink. “Aaaahh, falling, falling!!”

  
  


“pfft...” He held your left hand with his left, your arm across his body, and used his right to hold on to your waist and lift you high enough for your distancing legs to go straight again. Even once you were relatively stable, he didn’t seem to want to move from the position he was in with you. “relax.”

  
  


“Oh wow, relax? _Really?”_ You widened your eyes. The sarcasm is strong in this one. “Why didn’t you just say that earlier?”

  
  


He chuckled, gently guiding you around the rink. You were hardly aware of the people around you watching a monster and a human get so cuddly with each other. “most of the floor traps around snowdin were ice. had to be good to not fall into them. guess you could say we needed to be... prec _ice.”_

  
  


... A little unattractive snort-giggle sound forced its way out of your mouth. As much as you were busy fearing for you life, you couldn’t _not_ appreciate a good pun. You looked up over your shoulder at him... at least you were enjoying feeling small. In fact you were even starting to enjoy the skating experience a bit!

  
  


“There’s _snow_ way I could get as good at skating as you.”

  
  


“daw.” He squeezed your hand. “you really are a dope after my own heart, ain’t ya?”

  
  


You looked down at the ice passing almost _frighteningly_ fast beneath you, infinitely glad for Red’s stable grip. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be if you keep me from falling onto my butt.”

  
  


“oh, what’s that?” He let go of your waist, just holding one hand. “yer good to go on yer own?”

  
  


... You looked at him, face falling, immediately turning to grip his hand with both of yours. So much for starting to enjoy it.

  
  


“Red.” Oh God. You could see it in his expression. “Red. Please.”

  
  


“mm... if you say so, sweetheart~” he _let go,_ the absolute _bastard!_

  
  


You squawked and tried to reach for his hand again, immediately forgetting any and all necessary limb functions as panic took over. “R-Red _no!_ I will never forgive you for this!”

  
  


“relaaax.” Sans came up beside you, hands in his pockets, catching you off-guard- your skelefriend was many things, you didn’t expect ‘graceful’ to be one of them. You tried to reach out to him but he darted away easily. “it’s okay. you got this.”

  
  


“No I don’t!!” You squeaked.

  
  


Just then, your right foot wobbled. And that single wobble ended up curving your whole foot forward. _Shit!_ You instinctively lifted it up and tried to place it back down in the right place but it just slipped out again, so you pushed down your other foot to try and balance but _it_ went out from under you too, so you put down the _other_ foot- for a few moments you were panicking and running backwards on the ice while _still moving forward,_ like some kind of Scooby-Doo character, you were leaning further and further back and back and back, flailing, you squeezed your eyes shut to brace for impact, _you were never going to forgive Sans and Red for the massive bruise on your a-_

  
  


Your feet went out from underneath you.

  
  


... But you didn’t make contact with the ground. Someone was holding you up, one arm tucked under your knees and the other under your upper back.

  
  


You opened your eyes.

  
  


... Skull smiled down at you, apparently relieved (but nowhere near as relieved as you), eyelight visibly dilating; it must’ve contracted when he saw you falling. No pair of arms had never felt so strong and stable and warm to you before that moment- and hey, what pair of arms could possibly be as strong and stable as Skull’s absolute tree trunks?

  
  


You let out a single, shaky breath, letting your almost-fall-related panic leave your body. Skull was here. God, his arms were so comfy...

  
  


“... Right.” You said, resolutely, knowing that the guys were definitely following alongside Skull. “I have decided that I’m marrying Skull. Neither of you two are invited. Now please take me home, I’m done being terrible at this.”

  
  


It brought you immense satisfaction to look over your shoulder and see the shit-eating grins drop from Red and Sans’s faces.

  
  


“awww, no! sweetheart ya can’t do that, we’re already married!” “c’mon, you survived in the end, right?”

  
  


You responded by sticking your tongue out at them, then tucking yourself back into Skull’s arms as he approached the side of the ice, slowly making his way toward the rink exit.

  
  


“... heheh.” Skull wasn’t able to hide his grin, or the blush on his cheekbones. “g-guess... if they show up, it’ll be a... _cold reception.”_

  
  


...

  
  


Did...

  
  


... Did Skull just make a pun?

  
  


...

  
  


You immediately threw your arms around Skull’s neck, pulling yourself up, kicking your legs and letting out a tiny squeal, pressing a long ‘mmmwah’ kiss to his jaw. “O-oh my God!! Skull, you’re amazing, that was _amazing-_ you made a pun! You actually made a pun!”

  
  


“i make puns.” Red said, mock heartbreak in his voice, putting a hand to his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.

  
  


“You also left me for dead at the last moment.” You scowled at him from your position holding onto Skull’s neck, cheek against Skull’s massive cheekbone. “You have forfeited all joy rights.”

  
  


... Skull chuckled in response to your overwhelming enthusiasm, lifting you up a little more so you could grip onto him slightly easier. “... heh... yeah... s-sure did make a pun...”

  
  


“Certified 100% husband material.”

  
  


Two ticks. Then a huge grin spread across his face.

  
  


“... d-don’t you mean... hus _bone?”_

  
  


\---

  
  


On the way back home from the rink, your feet more than enjoying the feeling of solid and reliable ground beneath you (and your ears enjoying the slight crunching of the now-compacted snow) you remembered that you’d made a note to yourself that morning that you were short on a few groceries. Namely condiments, but also juice. You figured it was best that you just made your way over to the store and picked them up, instead of going straight home only to go back out again... Red and Skull preferred to get inside again but Sans wanted to accompany you to the store. And so, the group was split into two; just you and Sans, left alone together.

  
  


The journey itself and the store visit were both entirely uneventful, full of comfortable small talk and stretches of silence, the occasional pun... aside from your momentary pause at the checkout where you found yourself questioning whether you _really_ bought that many ketchups, nothing much happened at all. It made you think about how long it had really been since you and Sans had a stretch of time completely alone together to just enjoy each other’s company and space, to revel in the silence of two people who knew one another well enough to not feel inclined to fill it.

  
  


Every now and then, on the way home, you found yourself either catching him looking at you, or you yourself being caught looking at him. It didn’t matter how many times it happened- you always both looked away from each other, cheeks and cheekbones flushing with pink and blue respectively. Every time it happened you couldn’t help but hold the grocery bag handle a little tighter, thinking about the balcony at the BnB, the cold nipping at your nose and fingers, the music drifting out of the phone speaker, his arms around your middle...

  
  


... Your lips on his...

  
  


...

  
  


You felt Sans’s hand take ahold of yours, his phalanges weaving between your fingers and squeezing gently. You looked at him, smiling, and squeezed back- he was smiling too, with a dumb sort of grin that made you think of the face golden retrievers make when they’re happy.

  
  


...

  
  


“hey.” He said, breaking the silence for a moment. His eyelights were wide and fuzzy. “... just... wondering. what’s your favourite joke i ever told you?”

  
  


“... The Beethoven one.” You said, not missing a beat (hah, beat...). He turned to you, cocking his skull a little.

  
  


“... don’t think i remember that.”

  
  


“A guy goes to pay his respects at the grave of the recently deceased Beethoven.” You turned back to watch the snow falling all around you, your hand warm and comfortable in his. The falling white was almost like mist, making things in the distance seem paler and further away... You seriously doubted Sans didn’t remember a joke. Knowing him, he just wanted to hear you tell him a joke. Who were you to deny him? “And when he gets there, he can hear a strange, otherworldly song that sounds like it’s coming from within the grave. So he goes to get his friend, and brings him to the grave, hoping he can identify it- but his friend has no idea. It sounds like nothing he’s ever heard. They bring more friends but no one can understand the music. They even bring the local priest to the grave, who’s just as stumped. Finally they decide to bring an expert musician... the musician listens with his ear to the ground. After what feels like hours, he stands up...”

  
  


You turned to Sans again, unable to stop yourself from grinning.

  
  


“... He says ‘Don’t worry about the songs. It’s all of Beethoven’s music being played backwards... it’s just him _decomposing.’”_

  
  


You were very pleased with how much Sans laughed at that one. You couldn’t help it, you laughed a bit too- that joke had always stuck with you particularly well.

  
  


The silence afterward was a comfortable one.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Sans broke it again. But this time... his voice was much softer and more cautious than you anticipated.

  
  


“... hey. we need to talk about-”

  
  


“HEY! It’s _YOU!”_

  
  


You and Sans both jumped and glanced up in surprise upon hearing the yell, wondering who was shouting at people so loud at this time of day, your hands parting from one another. You quickly noticed (he wasn’t hard to see considering he was running toward you) an anthropomorphic platypus monster, with blonde-spotted chocolate brown fur, running in your direction through the falling snow. On his left was a red panda monster, whose fur was wiry and uncombed-

  
  


... _Wait._

  
  


_You knew them._

  
  


Instantly, shock seized your chest, and you stumbled back a little. You felt Sans grab your arm- _it... it was the monsters that Hit attacked!_ Even from this distance you could see a scar on the platypus’ head, a silvery-pink furless line just above his right eye. In that moment you could hear the cracking of glass meeting skull, you could see the shards of green bottle showering across the pavement and against the wall...

  
  


_No, why now?!_ Your head and eyes hurt. _Why is this happening now? Can’t I just have a few quiet moments to be happy?!_

  
  


It was them. _And they were rushing toward you._

  
  


“woah, woah.” Sans used his grip on your arm to pull you back, stepping out in front of you. Somehow, next to Sans, you felt even smaller- you gripped the grocery bag as hard as possible to stop yourself shaking. “scuse me, can i help you guys?”

  
  


“Your fucking boyfriend ruined our lives, you bitch!” The panda yelled at you, stopping short as his friend stormed forward. Sans immediately brought his hands up, backing up a little with you still behind him, rooted to the spot.

  
  


“woah there buddy. let’s just chill.” Sans’s tone was impressively calm and relaxed considering the situation. The platypus was a few inches taller than Sans and he all but _snarled,_ leaning over your skelebud in an attempt to threaten him. “i think you got the wrong people.”

  
  


You were starting to panic. Why did you ever even try to go out in public anymore? You should’ve just gone home, and forgotten about groceries. You should’ve just gotten someone else to go. You should’ve brought Red, y-you should’ve asked for Skull to come with, someone big, and physically intimidating...

  
  


You heard a noise next to you. You turned, spinning quickly-

  
  


\- just in time for a surprisingly furry fist to make full contact with your cheek, your face immediately jolting in the other direction with an unpleasant ‘THUNK’ sensation.

  
  


...

  
  


For a moment, you couldn’t tell what the fuck was going on. It was like you’d gone out of reach of a radio station- you could see, you could still _see,_ but nothing was processing. Nothing was actually going in to your stunned brain. You were vaguely aware of the grocery bag leaving your grip. The sounds and sights all blurred out for a split second, fuzzy, shocked...

  
  


... Until you became aware of sharp pieces of tarmac jabbing into your palms and knees through cold, wet snow. _Painfully_ cold snow. You could smell pine needles in the air. You blinked- the white tarmac was in front of you. Why was it in _front_ of you? Why was everything _spinning?_ Someone shouted, someone you didn’t know, _the tarmac is in front of me..._

  
  


_... I’m on the floor._

  
  


Your eyes widened.

  
  


_He PUNCHED me._

  
  


... Your brain phased in again. And immediately, your face _hurt._

  
  


You cried out and pressed a hand to your cheek- an intense, dull throbbing flowed through the entirety of your cheek from the impact zone, like the whole thing was a bruise that someone was pressing against forcefully, sharp splits rippling outwards from the upper cheekbone itself like an open wound. Your back teeth on that side felt like they were being tugged out of your mouth, as if the worst headache you’d ever had had been relocated the entire left side of your face, pulsating, _ringing_ pain...

  
  


You groaned, pulling your hand back to see there was (thankfully) no blood.

  
  


“N-nonono, dude, wait!”

  
  


_“you think you can punch my partner_ _you son of a bitch!?”_

  
  


“I-I didn’t know they was your partner, man, I swear-”

  
  


_“_ _**that doesn’t make it any better.”** _

  
  


... You turned.

  
  


The platypus was pinned against the street wall; a long, white bones were protruding from all around him. For a split second you panicked, thinking he’d been _impaled-_ but upon closer inspection you could see that all the bones were just stabbed through strategic areas of loose clothing that kept him trapped. The bottoms of his pant legs, the ends, sleeves... the one in the hood of his jacket had come so close to his head that it was pressing against his duck-like bill- he looked like he’d seen a ghost.

  
  


... You looked further, forcing yourself to your feet, grazed knees stinging from the wet snow that had now seeped through your jeans. The grocery bag was on its side and the contents had spilled out onto the floor, ketchup and mustard and vegetables and juice cartons lying on their sides in the slightly dirtied white.

  
  


The two of them were only a few feet away from you. The red panda was on his back, desperately scurrying, trying as hard as he could to pull himself further away from Sans. The panda looked even worse than when you’d first seen him before your meeting with Hit- at least then, his wiry fur retained some colour. Now it was ashen and flecked with most likely stress-related silvery grey hairs, whiskers either drooping or entirely missing, clothes full of holes and in no way suitable for the weather at hand.

  
  


Sans was standing over him, phalanges bent into hooked claws, with pure _murder_ in his almost-empty sockets. He reached up his hand to summon something, snarling...

  
“Sans!” You didn’t mean to sound like you were about to burst into tears, the crack in your voice probably from stress, or pain. But you didn’t want to have today ruined any more than it already had been- you didn’t want to have to witness a murder.

  
  


You just wanted to go home and remember today for the fun at the rink.

  
  


... Sans paused.

  
  


He didn’t look at you, but he still paused, curled lips falling a little as his snarl became less prominent.

  
  


...

  
  


He focused back on the red panda, lowering his hand.

  
  


“you’re lucky i have more important things to get to.” His voice was ice cold, a void of emotion, which somehow was even more terrifying than any amount of anger or hate. “so i’m gonna let you live. but buddy, pal... if i ever find out you so much as _looked_ at (y/n)?”

  
  


He leant over and grabbed the panda by the collar, yanking him up off the floor a little so that he was inches away from Sans’s bottomless empty sockets and eerily wide grin.

  
  


“ **you’re gonna** _ **wish**_ **that other guy killed you when he had the chance.”**

  
  


Other guy? ... Did he know they were related to your experience with Hit?

  
  


And on that note, he let go of the panda’s shirt. In an instant, he and his friend vanished, into thin air- the only sign they were ever there was the holes in the wall near to you where the bones had pierced into it and held fast, and the grey patches of snow where their body heat had melted the ice and allowed the tarmac to show through.

  
  


...

  
  


You felt sick.

  
  


Sans turned to you, eyelights back in his sockets, emotions returning like a switch being flipped; you could see fear, regret, worry... he rushed over, catching you as you fell- you didn’t even realise your legs had gone out from underneath you.

  
  


“Wh-where did they...?” You didn’t notice that you’d instinctively grabbed onto his jacket, either. You felt like a slow computer, still trying to sort through what you’d just experienced as fast as possible, but new things just kept piling up on you.

  
  


“all i could think of at that moment was that they were trash.” You were on your knees between his legs on the tarmac. “i think... i sent them to a landfill site.”

  
  


... You couldn’t help but giggle a tiny bit at that- but it made your cheek and mouth hurt, and your smile fell as quickly as it had come as you groaned in pain, brows furrowing.

  
  


“shit. are you ok?” Sans asked, tilting your face toward him. You flinched as his phalanges made contact; he pulled away for a moment, cringing, other hand settling where your neck met your shoulder.

  
  


“Ch... cheek.” You said, squeezing your eyes shut, mouth feeling like it was filled with cotton balls on the side that was punched.

  
  


“jeez, he really got you there... it’s already bruising.” His voice was so soft, so empathetic. “just... hold still, i’ll get that for you.”

  
  


A tingling, electric warmth began to flood across your face, like pressing ice against a sunburn... but it was strangely comforting? It almost felt like the searing heat of the injury was being cooled down. You couldn’t help but relax; pins and needles or not, it felt better than the throbbing dull pain from the punch, and normal sensation was returning to the skin.

  
  


You peered your eyes open- a soft, light blue glow was emanating from where Sans was healing your face.

  
  


...

  
  


_“you’re gonna wish that other guy killed you when he had the chance.”_

  
  


Your tongue felt thick in your mouth.

  
  


“H-how... how did you know they...?”

  
  


“... had something to do with hit?” He said, careful. His eyelights were small.

  
  


“M-mhm.”

  
  


“... i didn’t really. it was an educated guess.” He finished healing, rubbing the area softly with his thumb to make sure there were no sore spots left. “i didn’t know them and they said ‘your boyfriend’. it was something you hadn’t told me about so i figured it must be related to him.”

  
  


Guilt gnawed at your stomach and Soul.

  
  


“... were they the guys you mentioned he fought off for you? when you first met him?”

  
  


You nodded.

  
  


...

  
  


“... I feel like... he must’ve... done something to them.” You couldn’t hold eye contact. You felt ashamed, knowing how easily you fell into Hit’s hands, how it could’ve been avoided if you let Sans know. “Revenge, maybe? For trying to hurt me.”

  
  


“... they said he ruined their lives.” The area was now totally free of pain. Thank God- you didn’t want to be sporting a massive bruise and a black eye for however long it took those to heal.

  
  


... You nodded again. “... He definitely had... power.”

  
  


“power?”

  
  


_“owner is a monster i’ve done business with before.” Hit purred. “just... callin’ in a favour.”_

  
  


A ‘favour’. Your mind was firing- what kind of favour did he mean?

_“How did you get in here anyway?”_

_... He raised his brow at you over the menu._

_You giggled, picking up yours too. “Another ‘favour’?”_

_“how did you guess?” He grinned, tooth flashing._

_“Makes me wonder how many people are in your debt right now. For you to be able to call so many expensive favours.”_

_He didn’t answer that particular observation._

... Debts and favours from clearly wealthy people and business owners. Expensive, sharp clothing. Top-notch watches and accessories, an outrageously big house. Lavish gifts to attempt to gain your affections. His talk of people 'working for him' back in his home universe. And when he pointed that gun at the monster, he had it in his jacket pocket, meaning... he must’ve been carrying a concealed gun on his person at all times.

  
  


...

  
  


... Your heart sank.

  
  


“... God.” You put your head in your hands. “I’m so stupid.”

  
  


“...” Sans’s voice came out disapproving. “... what? no you’re not.”

  
  


“He must’ve been some kind of mobster.” You couldn’t look at him. You didn’t care that snow was leaking through the legs and seat of your pants... all you could think about was that you still hadn’t gotten rid of that dress you wore to your date with Hit. It was still neatly folded, under the bed, in its little box. You just couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away. “The big house, the suits, the _gun..._ on our dates he was always taking me to nice places that he got in for free, and he never extrapolated further than ‘it’s a favour’...”

  
  


“hey. hey, look at me.”

  
  


... You forced yourself to meet Sans’s eyelights, wet and cold and feeling like a doll that only just understood how long its strings had been played with.

  
  


“it’s not your fault for being manipulated.” There it was again- that expression that was the closest he could get to strict. “if you’re right about him being a mobster then he lied and cheated and manipulated for a _living._ it’s not your fault for being tricked, it’s not your fault that someone else hurt you.”

  
  


...

  
  


His face softened a tad.

  
  


“if anything, it’s a little bit my fault.”

  
  


... You blinked, brows creasing. “What? How?”

  
  


“he made you feel wanted, right? maybe if i hadn’t been a jerk to you, you wouldn’t have been so happy to offer yourself to a stranger.”

  
  


...

  
  


You didn’t know what to say to that.

  
  


“... i think i made my point with them, we won’t see them again. come on, home time. you’re getting soggy.”

  
  


Before you could react, Sans scooped one arm under your legs and another behind your back, lifting you off of the freezing, snowy ground, the grocery bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. Did he pick that up? Thank fuck, you wouldn’t have remembered it at this point. You just hoped nothing was broken or damaged. You could feel your soaked jeans sticking to your ice-cold thighs... But you didn’t complain.

  
  


Being carried by Sans was vastly different to being carried by Skull. Skull was dizzyingly tall, his arm was almost as thick as your entire upper back, you felt like a kitten while wrapped up in his embrace. But Sans? Somehow, it... felt more intimate. You were nearer to the ground, but you were also nearer to _him,_ as he had to carry you that much closer to him to keep you stable. You felt like you were entirely relying on him... on that oh-so-familiar incredible strength and reliability hidden in his seemingly small body. His face was so close to yours...

  
  


... You looped an arm around his neck, leaning your head on his shoulder and sighing...

  
  


...

  
  


“... Hey.” You said, as he made his way back down the road. You couldn’t see his face- only the side of his skull. His jawbone and cheekbone...

  
  


“hm?”

  
  


“... Before we got jumped, you... you said you needed to talk about something?”

  
  


... A breath escaped from between his teeth.

  
  


“... ah. yeah.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“... So?”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“... the machine is finished.”


	36. Not Red-y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red doesn't react well to the news.
> 
> But then again, who would?

_..._

  
  


...

  
  


You’d never fully understood the term ‘deafening silence’ until now.

  
  


Sure, you’d described it that way to yourself. You’d been in a room where the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, where the only thing you’d been able to hear was your heart in your ears and throat. You’d been in situations where everything seemed to go in slow motion, where the world seemed to hold its breath...

  
  


But this?

  
  


_This_ was deafening silence.

  
  


They’d rushed you when you got home, obviously. Red and Skull. They could tell instantly something was wrong by your soaked clothes and shaken expression and quivering hands... you barely heard Sans explaining what’d happened. Your tongue felt like lead... they thought you were shocked because you’d been punched (though it definitely helped) but you just couldn’t stop _thinking_ about what Sans had said.

  
  


_“... the machine is finished.”_

  
  


...

  
  


... And when you returned to the room in dry clothes, the only sound was the lack of sound at all.

  
  


You’d become so used to feeling the natural crackles of the boys’ magic dancing across your skin and nerves every day that feeling _nothing_ in the air was like... walking into a room where nobody was blinking or breathing. It felt unnatural, and as if something was being held back, held _in._

  
  


Skull’s expression was blank. Deadpan. He was sitting on the couch, not moving an inch, unreadable in every way, staring at Sans... the only signal that anything was wrong was the constricted size of his eyelight as he all but bored a hole into Sans’s cranium.

  
  


“... the glitches have evened out.” Sans said, voice oddly small, and with a note of something that seemed like apprehensiveness. You stood there, with your hand on the door frame, watching and listening with a horrible _sick_ feeling in your stomach. “both your timelines have been fully located and complete pathways have been established. it’s... it’s ready to send you both back.”

  
  


...

  
  


“...no.”

  
  


...

  
  


Red’s smile twitched, eyelights almost completely extinguished.

  
  


He was clenching the sofa cushion underneath him like a drowning man, a single bead of sweat forming on his temple. “no. no, ya can’t be done yet. you _can’t._ not on your own. it was all bust up, those stabilisers would take years to manufacture. the source is too...”

  
  


...

  
  


A realisation seemed to dawn on him. One that created a deep frown between his brows, one that dropped his smile like a doll on cut strings.

  
  


...

  
  


_Now_ his eyelights were gone.

  
  


“... ya took something from hit’s machine.”

  
  


Your gaze immediately snapped over to Sans. _He what?_ But... he told you they destroyed Hit’s machine. Sans was avoiding looking at Red, sweating, eyelights firmly trained on the floor, lips pursed to contain whatever he apparently desperately wanted to say.

  
  


... What did he _do?_

  
  


Red stood up from his seat, slowly. “didn’t you?”

  
  


...

  
  


Sans’s eyelights flicked up to meet Red’s. His expression was just as unreadable as Skull but with a slight darkness behind his gaze. Your heart was in your mouth; you started making your way over to them, feeling like the situation was getting out of hand.

  
  


...

  
  


“... yes.” Sans said. “i took the stabilisers-”

  
  


A thick ring of pure magic burst into life in Red’s void-like left socket like a pool of gasoline erupting into flame. You gasped, and stumbled back- the magic was back, heavy in the air, buzzing and whirring, it was hot, it was _angry-_

  
  


_“you_ _**bastard-!”** _

  
  


Red raised his arm, but before he could throw his tightened fist into Sans’s jaw Skull caught him by the forearm and _yanked_ him back like an owner trying to contain and control their rabid dog.

  
  


“calm _down!”_ Skull snarled, teeth fully bared.

  
  


“no, no, get _off_ me- _NO!”_ Red yanked again and faltered, ripping his arm out of Skull’s grip with such ferocity that Skull’s claws had no time to pull back and they raked across Red’s bone and tore through the arm of his jacket. Red staggered back, socket still alight with anger. “don’t _touch_ me! you don’t fuckin’ understand, _neither_ of you understand!”

  
  


“red.” Skull turned to him fully. His posture was still on the defensive despite being as open as possible- his voice came out calm but laced with frustration. “you’re not the only one with a bad universe.”

  
  


“y’just don’t fuckin’ get it, do you!?” He wasn’t calming down. His chest was starting to heave, and you could see the minute quivering in his clawed phalanges.

  
  


... He was _panicking._

  
  


“yer universe is shitter than mine. i’ll admit that. i don’t have ta worry about starvin’ to death.” He sucked a shaking breath in through his nasal cavity. “but you _have_ someone. y’ve got yer pap. you two have each other no matter what. i don’t fuckin’ have _anyone.”_

  
  


... Skull’s energy seemed to shift a little.

  
  


“i-i don’t have _anybody.”_ His voice quaked, and he stared at his hands, the shaking now more noticeable and prominent. The more he spoke the more his rage seemingly rose- but there was something else there too. Something a lot less stable than anger. “undyne’d kill me if pap weren’t in the way. and pap _hates_ me. he wouldn’t trust me as far as he could throw me, no one would. alphys is a fuckin’ nutter who enjoys toturing kids. grillby thinks i’m an alcoholic slob- but who _doesn’t_ back there? i don’t _have_ friends, i never had friends, i couldn’t care _less_ if those fuckers stayed frozen forever. good _riddance.”_

  
  


... Thick silence again.

  
  


...

  
  


... He pressed his palms to his sockets, snarl falling at the corners, fury seemingly dissipating as quickly as it’d come.

  
  


...

  
  


“i-i don’t want this to end.” His voice cracked. Hearing Red weak and afraid, only just above a whisper, wasn’t something anyone was prepared for. “i have friends and people i trust and people i love. i d-don’t want this to be o-over. not now. please not now.”

  
  


...

  
  


How were you supposed to reply to that? Your heart was aching in your chest like someone was pulling it apart from either side.

  
  


... Red took his hands away, turning on the spot, staring directly at you. He barely left you any time to react to his movement, he immediately jumped forward and grabbed your shoulders, tight- you flinched in shock and tried to move backward but he either didn’t care or didn’t notice. You could see the other two jump to attention in the corner of your eye but you were too focused on the desperate skeleton taking up your full vision, face shadowed ever-so-slightly, single ring eyelight trembling in its socket.

  
  


“y-you won’t make me go back, right? sweetheart?” There was a _hysteric_ panic to his voice, a thick desperation starting to claw at his mind and vocal chords. His smile was forced up at the corners, it looked like he was in _pain-_ his magic was dancing and swirling over your face and neck, like all his hope and attention was being pinned on you. “you won’t make me go back. not after everythin’ we’ve been through together. you won’t make me go back.”

  
  


“... R-Red.” You said, feeling oh-so-tiny, shoulders aching from his urgent and fierce grip on you. “Red. Just breathe.”

  
  


... Wrong response. When he didn’t get the answer he immediately wanted his fake smile fell like a mercury thermometer plunged into ice, and he let go and pulled away, chest starting to heave, the terror seizing him completely.

  
  


Something had taken over him. Something you hadn’t ever seen before.

  
  


“... i won’t go back there.” The panic was too much for him. His eyelights had gone out, and he took another step back, away from all of you. “i _won’t_ go back!”

  
  


You tried to amend your mistake as fast as possible, reaching out, fingertips brushing his forearm- “N-no, Red, it’s okay, plea-”

  
  


Something snapped, in both his mind and his magic. He screamed- _“_ _ **don’t touch me!”-**_ he tore his arm away from your digits like they’d _burnt_ him-

  
  


... and disappeared, in a rush of magic.

  
  


Just like that, he was gone. Vanished.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


“... that...” Sans said, staring at the empty carpet where Red had been standing. “... could’ve... gone better.”

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Oh.

  
  


He did _not_ just say that.

  
  


You rounded on Sans, turning to face him.

  
  


He’d taken something from Hit’s machine. _Hit._ He’d fixed _his_ machine. You couldn’t blame Red for getting angry; it was rising in you, too, now that Red had fled the scene. A hot, aching, _terrible_ anger.

  
  


_Why? Would he do that?!_ You wanted to be sick. _He took from Hit’s machine. HIT. He lied to you, he just borrowed from the man who hurt you SO much and utilised his technology like it was no big deal._

  
  


_Would your hand break if you punched a skeleton?_

  
  


“What. Did you. Do.”

  
  


You felt Skull move too, his focus redirecting to the smaller skeleton. With a single rolling movement of his eyelight the energy in the room all redirected to Sans.

  
  


“... just wait a second.” Sans said, putting out one hand.

  
  


_WAIT!?_

  
  


“What the _fuck_ did you do!?” You didn’t realise you’d crossed the room until your hands were buried in the front of Sans’s jacket and you were yanking him close. Heat was in your face and chest and eyes, but not in the good way, not in the blushing way you were so used to- it wasn’t the rosy pink heat that made your heart flutter. It was a blood red heat that made you want to scream. “You took from Hit’s machine and fixed yours?!”

  
  


He stood there, unmoving, while you tried to rattle him like a baby toy, only succeeding in flapping his hoodie.

  
  


“kiddo.” His voice was soothing, features gentle and understanding, impossibly calm. You bristled- you _hated_ how easy he made you feel, you hated his stupid calm smile. You wanted him to be angry too, angry at you for grabbing him, why did him not being angry _frustrate_ you so much? _Why aren’t you angry you bastard!?_ “look, i didn’t mean to do it.”

  
  


“mean to do what.” Came Skull’s flat and unsympathetic reply, from right behind you. Yeah, yeah! Mean to do _what?_ Your brow furrowed, grimace settling. At least Skull was on your side.

  
  


Sans’s hands ghosted your upper arms. “i didn’t mean to fix it.”

  
  


You could feel your nostrils flaring as you flexed your shoulders, pushing his hands away. “Bullshit.”

  
  


“i didn’t. i took the stabiliser because i wanted to experiment on it.” It infuriated you. How impossibly strong and unbreakable he was when all you wanted to do was smack him for doing this. “you know what i’m like, i like knowing how things work. i wanted to see what his engineering was like, you can learn a lot about someone by seeing how they put things together.”

  
  


“Why do you want to know more about _him_?” You snapped.

  
  


“that’s not what i meant, and you know it.” He held onto your forearms properly, despite your shake attempt, and either didn’t register your glare or didn’t care. Probably the latter, because a _brick_ could understand the venomous look you were giving him. “sometimes the worst kinds of people are the best at whatever they’re completely obsessed with because they just don’t think like we do. i didn’t want to fix it, i just got curious and ran its functions with my machine. i didn’t think...”

  
  


... He trailed off, looking away.

  
  


“... You didn’t think what?” Looking back, you really should’ve given him a bit more patience.

  
  


A crease formed between his brows, much like yours. “... i didn’t think it’d fix the machine so seamlessly. i didn’t think it was the missing piece it needed. i didn’t...”

  
  


... His smile finally fell.

  
  


“... i didn’t _want_ it to work.”

  
  


...

  
  


... That took you off guard. Your grip in his hoodie loosened a bit, as did your vice-like mental grip on your rage.

  
  


... Hadn’t he wanted to get rid of them from the get-go? Wasn’t that his whole thing? He couldn’t seem to hold eye contact of any kind. Somehow it felt like it was out of an emotion similar to embarrassment.

  
  


“i... don’t want to lose it. whatever we’ve got here. whatever you wanna call it. this...” He chuckled, but it was thin. “this weird spooky family of idiots. it’s... it’s _fun_. admittedly it took me a _long_ time to warm up to the idea of sharing you and i come off pretty sharp about it, but it kinda hit me as i was messing with the stabiliser that... i didn’t want it to work. i didn’t want it to _ever_ work.”

  
  


When he looked at you, his eyelights were a shape you’d never seen before; and that was saying something considering how long you’d known him. Two normal-sized oval rings. _Rings-_ what did it _mean?_ It gave him a strange look, like he was serious and sincere, but at the same time so far away from you.

  
  


... You didn’t know what to say to it. Any of it.

  
  


...

  
  


He seemed to take your silence as not believing him. Which, in a way, you didn’t. He’d spent so _long_ at odds with the other two, and he wasn’t nearly as close with Red or Skull as they were with each other...

  
  


...His hands moved. Instead of holding onto your forearms, one went to your shoulder... and the other cupped your cheek. The action made you blink.

  
  


His eyelights shifted from rings back to their usual soft orbs.

  
  


“i promise.”

  
  


...

  
  


... A breath escaped your chest.

  
  


You knew Sans didn’t make promises lightly. He _never_ broke a promise, no matter what he’d sworn, and he ensured he kept that streak by _never_ making promises he couldn’t keep.

  
  


_i promise._

  
  


...

  
  


You let go of his jacket.

  
  


“Okay. Okay... I believe you.” ... You smoothed down the soft blue fabric with quivering hands, feeling guilt well up to fill the place of the now-missing anger, voice several tones lower. “... Sorry, I... I grabbed you so aggressively.”

  
  


He seemed to relax too, upon realising he’d managed to quell you. “it’s alright.”

  
  


A million thoughts were racing through your head at once, now that you were allowing yourself to feel something other than furious and betrayed, and you stared at your hands pressed against Sans’s chest.

  
  


Red had _gone._ You had some faint mental clues as to where he might’ve headed off to- _the bar, the park, the cinema-_ but other than that, you had no clue where he was. And even then... what were you going to do when you found him? Chances are if you didn’t get out what he wanted to hear fast enough, he might just disappear again. He wasn’t in a good mental space... should you even _try_ to find him? What if he sees you chasing him up as... well, _chasing?_

  
  


_He doesn’t want to go back, even though his whole life and his biological family are there._ Your own thoughts couldn’t take a side. _Doesn’t that say something about the state his world is in? Doesn’t that say something about his desperation to keep away? You’d never send a terrified dog back to its abusive home, even if the rescue was by chance._

  
  


But... was it fair to let billions of people stay frozen for all eternity, just so one man could live out a happier life? The whole timeline, gone. All those people who would never have a chance at anything, all those relationships he would’ve had that won’t ever happen.

  
  


_Everything’s already irreversibly changed, though. Isn’t it? Red won’t act the same if you send him back, and you know what people say about the butterfly effect. He’s opened up so much to you, to Skull, even to Sans a little... wouldn’t sending him back by force just ruin him? You know what Red’s like. He’ll clam up to avoid getting hurt again. Wouldn’t it shut him out from all potential relationships in the future?_

  
  


You can’t just ignore it. You have to do the right thing!

  
  


_But... if Sans had never fixed the machine, what were you going to do? You would’ve just lived together and forgotten all about it. No one would’ve ever mentioned it again._

  
  


... You can’t just let all those people stay frozen now that the option to free them is there.

  
  


_But you can’t make a man you love lose everything._

  
  


You didn’t _know_ loving him would turn out to be the wrong choice. It’s not fair.

  
  


_No. It’s not. He’s bad enough..._

  
  


_... But have you even considered Skull?_

  
  


You blinked, turning away from Sans to face the giant behind you, a short gasp sucking in between your teeth.

  
  


Skull wasn’t exactly happy, either. His eyelight was still worryingly small and his shoulders were tenser than an elastic band in the hands of a schoolboy.

  
  


But...

  
  


... At least he was still _here._ You really appreciated that he hadn’t disappeared on you- but you still swallowed. What the hell were you supposed to say to him? Should you promise you wouldn’t send him away? Should you _apologise?_ You didn’t even know where to begin.

  
  


“... Skull.” You started, small and apprehensive. “We-”

  
  


“let’s wait here for red.” He spoke over you with a perfectly controlled and monotone voice, reaching out, gently taking your tiny hand in his. It was probably the first time you’d ever been glad someone interrupted you. “... he might... come back when he’s calmer.”

  
  


...

  
  


“Yeah. Let’s.” You nodded, already far too emotionally exhausted to consider interrogating Skull about whether or not he’d willingly return to his timeline if you and Sans asked him to. “Then we can talk properly.”

  
  


...

  
  


... God, you hated the silence. It made you feel sick.

  
  


...

  
  


But hey. You had a small idea.

  
  


“Uhm... Sans? Skull?”

  
  


They made little affirmative responsive noises. It felt like if anyone was too loud, the atmosphere might crack like a pane of glass.

  
  


“... Could we all sleep in here tonight? ... Just... have a ‘sleepover’, like we did a while ago? We can leave notes on our doors in case Red comes home and doesn’t see anyone in their bedroom.”

  
  


“... course.” Sans said, soft. “we’ll move the mattresses in here. maybe put on a movie.”

  
  


You smiled, nodding, trying to contain your still-racing thoughts. Sleeping in a group would definitely soothe your anxieties...

  
  


... At this point, though you weren’t going to admit it, you were almost afraid that...

  
  


...

  
  


No, it wasn’t worth thinking about.

  
  


... You helped Sans move the pillows and blankets, wanting something to do with your hands.

  
  


... Well. Hand.

  
  


Despite his calm face, Skull's grip on you was like an unbreakable shackle.


	37. Homesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You chat to Skull and search for Red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting note: I know a lot of people were a bit upset with Mc’s aggressive reaction to Sans in the previous chapter, and I totally understand that. I thought I might give it an explanation but queendoubleddorkmcgee wrote an excellent comment that I think sums it up perfectly. Bare in mind I cut out a bit of it so it would fit inside the start notes character limit.
> 
> ‘PTSD is not logical! When you have it your brain rewires it self to bypass logic thinking so you react automatically to the trigger (sometimes you don't even know what the trigger even is it's so fast) and you're brain does this as a form of survival. Hit is a trigger to mc, his machine is a point of conflict to her too, fear can quickly turn to anger as a way to make you feel like you have some kind of control (even when you really don't)... because sometimes it feels better to be angry instead of scared. Emotions were also already running high. The fact that he was able to talk [you] down and to see the logic just tells me this was a PTSD attack mc experienced that came out in a more aggressive manner.’
> 
> Obviously it doesn’t excuse the violence or grabbing of Sans; but Mc is learning how to deal with the PTSD of her experience- and unfortunately that includes all the ugly parts that come with it. Luckily you have very healthy relationships with gentle skeleboys who love you a lot and are willing to stay calm with you during those hiccups to help her deal with it.
> 
> Hope this cleared it up a bit! <3
> 
> ALSO! **THERE ARE MENTIONS OF ABUSE AT THE BEGINNING OF THE CHAPTER**. No actual abuse takes place, just descriptions of scars left over from physical abuse, and children displaying behaviour learnt from abuse. If you don't want to read this skip the italic section at the beginning of the chapter and begin at the line 'Why was it so quiet?

The small skeleton tucked the bright red bundle closer to his chest, reaching around to re-adjust a corner of the scarf that’d come loose. A stress-induced single crimson eyelight glanced over to the closed bedroom door, panicked breath catching in his nonexistent throat; he knew that if the other member of the house woke up he stood no chance of getting himself and his brother out. He could feel his own bones minutely rattling, both under the stress of his pounding terrified magic and the weight of the oversized rucksack on his shoulders filled with food, water and a small storybook.

He hoped that the darkness would swallow the minute sound.

A tiny face peered out from the clumsily wrapped scarf. There was a patch bandage haphazardly fixed over one eyesocket with the edges of a fresh and vicious scar peeking out from underneath. The face’s sharp cheekbones were stained with red tears but no sounds emanated from between its equally as sharp teeth aside from small, scared and confused gurgles- it was a baby who’d already learnt the consequences of noise.

It was a baby who’d learnt to be silent.

The elder of the two siblings glowed his eyelight, weakly, trying to be of some comfort to his confused baby brother. Eyelight glowing was normally reserved for parent to child interaction, but... stars knows Papyrus never received interaction of that kind from G.

... The infant responded instinctively, a tiny cherry-coloured spark appearing in his working socket, whimpering fading away- Sans didn't know if Pap would ever be able to use his other eyesocket but right now he just had to be glad the injury hadn't dusted the baby instantly.

Pap reached out a single arm, thin enough for Sans to snap it like a stick; he gave the baby his phalange and a weak, soft, gap-toothed smile.

"s'okay bro. imma get us outta here."

...

...

Why was it so quiet?

You were looking around, but there was no one there. Sun was streaming through the window and casting a rectangular patch of bright light onto the carpet. You were in your room... of course, where else? And you were wearing the soft expensive black dress. The pretty dress Hit bought you. It was so wonderful and expensive, and felt so nice against your skin... you held one corner and did a little twirl, staring at yourself in the mirror, letting a giggle escape your lips. It was warm and bright and you looked so pretty... Why didn’t you wear this more? You looked so lovely in it, so pretty.

So pretty.

... You glanced away from the mirror. The living room was dark, but you could see moonlight. It was so...

... So empty...?

Your smile fell a little. The apartment was deathly still... Were you the only person here? Where did everyone go in the middle of the night? Or wait, was it morning...?

“Guys?” You said, looking around, letting go of the corner of the dress. “Guys, you here?”

No response. You opened the living room door (how did you cross the floor so quickly?), and... there was Sans’s room, right in front of you. That’s strange. Maybe he changed the layout of the apartment. It was empty... lights off, desk cleared of the usual sketches and lists and blueprints and occasional dirty mugs or dishes. The beds Red and Skull had set up for themselves were gone, too, leaving only Sans’s bed, neatly folded and made.

... Neatly?

An odd, sickly, nervous feeling started building in your chest as you looked into the empty room, fingers squeezing around the smooth and malleable door handle.

Sans was never neat, Sans was never tidy... something felt like it was very very wrong here.

...

Something covered your lower legs. It was so cold and quick that you yelped, bracing yourself against the door frame for a second, looking down and spinning around to try and see where it was coming from-

Frothing, bubbling waves were washing over your calves. Water!? You cried out and turned around, the ends of the dress splaying around you in the inky black liquid. Where was all this water coming from? The entire apartment was flooded, ocean waves lapping across the floor, pushing and sucking with that familiar rushing sound you’d grown so familiar with during your time at the beach. Another wave came rolling over the first, a wall of midnight black water- this one careened into your hips and almost knocked you off your feet. You only just had time to stagger into a better braced position-

\- and you realised the entire apartment had vanished. All around you was just black, frothing, endlessly dark water.

...

Your feet dropped out from under you.

You screamed, plunging under the water, all the air escaping in a rush of red bubbles that completely obscured your vision. You forced yourself to kick upwards, breaking the surface and gasping in a heaving breath, flailing your arms; but you barely had time to scream again as another huge wave came crashing on top of you. The pressure was so intense, pushing you down, down, no matter how hard you kicked, down, down, d o w n . . .

You broke through again, eyes widening in shock from feeling nothing underneath you. But you couldn’t have broken through, it was the wrong way! Looking up, you... you could see the surface of the water in front of you- you’d fallen out the bottom of the ocean. I’m falling! You opened your mouth and reached out an arm-

... Someone caught your hand.

Your arm yanked in its socket. You gasped, terrified, and looked up- a familiar skeleton face was peering down at you, from within the water.

No...

His face was made of the water.

It was Hit. You tried to scream one final time but you were hanging over a void and all sound seemed to catch and lodge in your throat like a piece of dry food. Your dress from Hit, sodden with water, which had once felt so warm and light and playful and welcoming, was weighing you down like a ball and chain that refused to let go. Suddenly the face was Red, his panicked eyelights boring holes into your head- and then he was Skull, iris terrified and contracted to the size of a penny- warping and shifting- and then he was all of them at once, you couldn’t explain how but he was- Hit’s smell-

“s’alright.” It said. The voice that came out of its mouth was all of them, but at the same time, no one you’d ever heard before. “now i’m here with you instead.”

“... R-Red!” You tried to say, choking.

“y-you won’t make me go back, right? sweetheart?” Tears were dripping from the empty socket like the water that’d swallowed you moments ago, falling and hitting your cheeks like rain. “you won’t make me go back. not after everythin’ we’ve been through together. you won’t make me go back.”

“I’m sorry!! I don’t know!” You cried. The dark cold water looked so much more friendly than the emptiness you were hanging above. “I-I don’t want you to go, I don’t want any of you to go- I don’t know what to do!”

Then it was Skull’s voice. The tears started to fall at an unnatural pace, gushing, pouring out like a burst pipe, flattening your hair against your face, pushing you down. “we ran out of food. water. heat. ...core failed, no power. so little light.”

You were sobbing uncontrollably, clawing at his arm with your other hand in an attempt to pull yourself up. “I’m sorry!”

“people started to starve. go crazy. new ruler was cruel... waterfall became impassable. full of monsters and bogs and darkness... cut us off from hotland.”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“we... pap an’ i... we did our best to protect them... did our best to provide for the people in snowdin, but there was nothing, no food, no other choice, and when the next human fell we just...”

A grin.

“it was us or him.”

... You slipped.

You didn’t even have the energy to scream through all the panic. You were falling, falling, you couldn’t see anything but darkness and all you could hear was wind whipping past your ears and catching your hair, darkness- voices started to call out-

You hit the ground-

And jolted under a blanket, opening your eyes to the living room ceiling above you.

...

...

It was dark, yes.

But you could see.

... You let out a tiny, shaking breath, eyes wide and heart pounding like a crazy ex on a locked door. I’m... I’m not falling.

You weren’t falling, there was no midnight ocean above you. Just the familiar living room ceiling.

...

Someone was holding your hand.

You looked across from you. Sans was laid down too, facing you, sharing your blanket.

...

Of course. It all started to come back to you- slowly, though. You, Sans and Skull had moved some mattresses into the living room and laid them on the floor in front of the couch. Two blankets was enough for the three of you; one for you and Sans and one for Skull, who was slightly too large for much comforter sharing to be possible.

...

“... kiddo? you awake now?” Sans asked, soft, quiet, smoothing his thumb over your palm. His eyelights looked like little stars in the darkness.

You nodded, rubbing your face with your free hand. Your cheeks felt uncomfortable and cold and wet.

“... Sorry.” Your voice was hoarse. “Did I wake you up?”

“nah. i didn’t sleep.” He gave you an easy grin despite the slightly worrying previous statement. “i was gonna wake you up, but... well, i thought i remembered reading something about not waking up humans when they’re having nightmares. not even sure where i read it, but... i didn’t want to risk anything.”

You sighed. You wouldn’t have complained if he woke you up from that dream.

... Nightmare.

“What time is it?” You rubbed your eye with your free hand.

There was shifting fabric behind you, and a very familiar red glow began to cast softly over your shoulder. Oh... Skull was awake too. ... Did you wake him up?

“3am.” He said, deep voice a wonderful purr. You felt large phalanges start to carefully scrape along your scalp, gathering your hair behind your head.

You sighed, enjoying the gentle pulls and tugs of Skull’s ministrations. He was attempting a plait.

“... no sign of red.” Sans seemingly read your mind. “maybe we should go out looking for him once there’s some sunlight.”

You glanced away. “... I dunno. I feel like... we’re more likely to find him if it’s still dark. And most of the local bars don’t close until 4am.”

“you think we’ll find him at a bar?”

“It’s where I found him last time he vanished.” You shut your eyes. “Unfortunately.”

Skull had made a tiny plait out of the shortest lock of hair he could find. He undid it, running the sharp tip of his phalange down the length of the lock until it sprung apart; and then started again on the next lock, rhythmically, systematically.

...

Skull hadn’t actually plaited your hair in a long time. He’d played with it, yes, but... he only ever seemed to plait it if he was...

...

“... Skull?” You didn’t turn around, afraid of ruining whatever section of hair he was currently working on- but his hands paused momentarily to signal he’d heard you. “... What do you want to do?”

“... go look for red before the sun comes up.” He replied.

“... No, I mean...” You had to take a breath to steel yourself. “... What do you want to do. In terms of... the machine.”

...

His plaiting stopped entirely. In fact... you could feel the minute shaking in his hands suddenly go from almost unnoticeable to enough to delicately yank on your hair.

Which he let go of.

...

“s’pose you were... gonna bring it up... eventually.” He mumbled.

“Sorry.” You responded, reflexively. “... Were you hoping we’d find Red first?”

A large arm looped around your middle, and a familiar feeling mouth pressed against the top of your head- he hummed into your hair in affirmation.

“... we could talk about it later.” Sans offered. “once we’ve got everyone together.”

“... no.” Skull said, giving your middle a squeeze. It was strange... not being able to see his face or expressions when you were technically having a conversation with him. All you could see was the warm glow of his eyelight casting against the darkness... and all you could feel was his arm around you and his rising and falling ribs pressed up against your back. “... s’... better now. i’ve been thinking. i might, need a few minutes... to get all the words out. but... i know what i want to say.”

“... Take all the time you need.”

...

He took a breath.

...

“... i don’t want to go back.” He admitted. His breath was warm on your hair and scalp. “i don’t ever want... to go back there. to the underground. if it can be helped. the people there... they’re... well. most are beyond saving, at this point. if i’m honest. we all did things to survive, but... not all can move past those things. it’s done stuff to them and their souls that can’t be undone. and it’s been too long. very few of us... still have enough sanity to come back.”

Another breath.

“... i miss my friends. i miss them... but... i realised, i missed them when i was there, too. the people i’m missing... they’re gone. the people i miss died a long time ago... they died in their own heads, if that makes sense. they’re not coming back. but...”

...

“... i’ve decided... i want to bring papyrus through to here.”

That made you blink. His voice had a genuinely staggering amount of conviction. You could see the surprise on Sans’s expression; his eyelights shrinking to roughly half their size.

“we’d be able to.” Skull continued. “i checked the machine. thoroughly. so long as i go through first... sans, you could... pull us both back.”

“... your papyrus?” Sans repeated. That was a much better response than the harsh ‘no’ you’d been expecting.

“yes.”

“... and you trust me to bring you back?”

“yes.”

...

...

“you’d have to move out.” Sans said, hesitant. “there isn’t enough room for any more people to live permanently in this apartment. whether or not your pap is taller than you- which i’m assuming he is.”

Skull nodded. “he’s... tall.”

“if you’re living separate from us it’d mean one of you would need to get a job. i can cover rent and most other costs while you get on your feet but you’d have to get things like food and electricity on your own.”

“pap loves working.” You could hear the smile in Skull’s voice, arms tightening around you a little. Was that his Soul, buzzing in his ribcage like that? You could feel the excited vibrations against your shoulder blades. “he’ll... be hard-pressed... to let you pay for anything at all. trust me.”

...

Sans seemed to think for a minute, falling silent, staring at the giant monster that he could’ve been save for a single merciful decision on Frisk’s part. You really didn’t like that you couldn’t tell what he was thinking; you were so used to being able to read him... all you could tell for certain was that after a few seconds a resolute decision grounded itself in his head.

(You were no doubt pleading with him with your eyes the whole time he was thinking.)

...

... After what felt like a lifetime in the darkness but was most likely only a few minutes at most, he...

... He nodded.

“... okay. we’ll do that. we’ll bring your papyrus through.”

The response from Skull was immediate. A thump of impossibly happy magic engulfed the room like a soft shockwave- and the skin on your back, which was the closest thing to the epicentre, prickled like it’d been immersed in warm water. It fizzled out seemingly as quickly as it’d come but you could still taste his tangy snow-and-iron scent on the back of your tongue.

... That... you thought to yourself, heart skipping. ... That, right there, was undoubtedly a beat of pure happy magic.

“thank you.” Skull said.

...

Sans didn’t seem to know how to accept such a genuine thank you.

“... it’s late.” He said, sitting up. “we should get going now if we want to find red before everything shuts.”

\---

You ended up splitting up when the time came to search for Red. Sans went on his own, able to teleport quickly between multiple locations that were a lot further away, whereas you and Skull stuck to the nearer bars in case he’d decided to stay closer to home.

You would’ve split into three but literally nobody wanted you to be on your own in a public area after so much...

... drama.

... It was a quiet search, all things considered. At least between you and Skull. Very few words were passed, aside from the occasional ‘not here’ or ‘any luck?’, and although both your moods were definitely up from the revelation that Skull wouldn’t have to leave after all, your hopes were slowly dashed piece by piece inside your chest over the course of the night as Red turned out to not be in any of the bars you checked. You didn’t even know there were this many places to purchase alcohol within a half hour walk from where you lived- some smaller, some larger, some old and some pretty new... there were loads of them.

You actually found yourself slightly grateful that people would go silent and/or still whenever Skull entered a room. It made it so much easier to look around and check for Red; that, and you knew for a fact that no one would bother you with your bear by your side.

It was by the fifth bar, on your way through the streets to the sixth, with still no sign of Red, that both of you were starting to lose steam. You’d spent the whole time replaying in your head what you were going to say to him... tweaking it ever-so-slightly as you tried to anticipate how he might reply. But at this point you were beginning to doubt yourself and your ability to read him, or know what he was thinking- maybe... he didn’t go to a bar after all? Maybe he... went to a cinema, or something, or the park... You found yourself staring at a street lamp as it passed overhead, tuned in to distant wailing sirens as Skull’s footsteps were cat-silent. Was it wrong of you to make such a huge assumption about Red? That he’d immediately fall onto alcohol when he was having a hard time?

...

What if you didn’t find him at all? What if he’d ran away, too scared of facing the possibility of returning to his home dimension to even see you again?

What if he...

...

...

“hey.” Skull whispered, taking your tiny hand in his swallowing hold and giving it a gentle squeeze. “... it’s okay. we’ll... we’ll find him.”

“... But what if we don’t?” You had to try very hard to stop your voice from wobbling, licking your dry lips nervously.

“if he’s so desperate to stay... here, with us...” another small squeeze. “he wouldn’t... run away somewhere we couldn’t follow. yeah?”

...

You nodded, squeezing back this time.

...

“Skull?”

“hm?”

“What’s your brother like?”

... Skull blinked, turning his head to look at you properly. “my pap?”

“Yeah.”

... A familiar smile stretched across his face, eyelight rounded and fuzzy and practically already glowing with pride as he took a few seconds to glance away and try to put the first few words together in his head.

“well... he’s real tough. real smart, too.” A short pause. “he definitely, uh, caught a little bit of crazy, from being starved... but... he didn’t let it take him over. not like some other monsters did. he can come off as real intense, energetic, even... a bit cruel... but, that’s just his shell. what he wears... to protect himself. he’s super kindhearted deep down... well. not even that deep down. very close... to the surface. kept me going... when i didn’t want to go on any more... kept me alive. kept me hoping.”

You didn’t know what it was, but something about Skull gushing so fast with so much enthusiasm and so little stuttering or tripping over himself was immediately enough to bring your mood back up again.

... He looked down at you again, still all but glowing.

“... i-i can’t wait for you to meet him. he’s gonna think... you’re the best.”

... You smiled. It-

Bzzzzzzzzzt

...

Your phone was going off in your pocket. The two of you stopped walking, Skull’s eyelight shrinking a little bit as you removed your hand from his to pull out the small shaking device, answering as quickly as possible while barely reading the name displayed on the screen.

It was Sans.

... And as soon as you had the phone to your ear...

“i found him.”


	38. Come down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red needs reminding that he's wanted.

_i’ve only been gone a few hours. and i already miss them so much._

  
  


The bar Sans directed you to was _way_ over on the opposite side of the city. Skull had to get the two of you over there in small leaps instead of one big teleport- he couldn’t make it that far without risking both your safeties.

  
  


It was an area you’d never been to before; small, out-of-the-way, relatively run-down but still seemingly doing alright. Derelict buildings and graffiti and closed shutters but a few open shops with maintained fronts and signs of regular usage. Not abandoned enough to need proper funding and/or attention but not successful enough to get anywhere on the map... it definitely felt like the kind of place no one would think to look for anything.

  
  


The bar itself was also relatively small, with one door and a single window that was short and had dirt gathering in the corners despite the warm and friendly light that was filtering out onto the street. Sans was leant up against the wall next to the window; he gestured for you two to come over to him when he noticed you looking at the entrance.

  
  


“Is he in there?” You asked, not sure why you were keeping your voice so low. It was not like anyone would hear you in there, over the humming mix of voices and thumps of glass and wood. A surprisingly active bar, considering the fact that it was still the _very_ early hours of the morning.

  
  


“yeah. he is. ...i actually found him earlier.” Sans’s voice was low too, only just distinguishable. “way over on the other side of the city. i think he’d been kicked out from somewhere, he was walking away from a pretty popular drinking spot. as soon as he saw me coming toward him he bolted and teleported.”

  
  


Your heart sank. “... So he’s running when he sees us?”

  
  


He nodded.

  
  


“... Should we wait out here, then?” You were suddenly unsure, looking to Skull.

  
  


“... skull and i can wait here.” Sans was fidgeting- he’d never been a fan of drinking areas that weren’t Grillby’s. He’d always been cautious of areas where large groups of drunk humans congregated. “you go in and try to talk to him. if he teleports away from _you_ then we’re definitely screwed.”

  
  


“... Sure. Alright.” Your nod was feeling more like a nervous tic at this point. “I’ll... come out and get you if there’s any issues.”

  
  


The bar didn’t actually seem that bad. In fact, on your way in, the heavy door resisting you surprisingly stubbornly, you were taken aback by how _nice_ it all was on the inside. Warm browns and yellows and the ochres in between, twinkling glasses hanging from racks behind the counter, friendly chatter on all sides... Most people didn’t seem to even be that intoxicated in the face of it being _4 in the morning._ Perhaps you’d just wandered in at the perfect time?

  
  


The chatter died a little at the sound of you entering, but quickly picked back up again, totally unbothered. You even saw one or two people seemingly move to help you with the heavy door... but you managed to get inside before they had time to leave their seats, so they settled back in again and turned to their friends to continue whatever you’d unknowingly interrupted.

  
  


... You swallowed and looked ahead, door closing firmly behind you.

  
  


...

  
  


Red was sitting with his back to you and the entrance, on his own at the bar- and I mean _really_ on his own. The two barstools on either side of him were empty; he had his shoulders hunched, head down. You pursed your lips, being as quiet as possible... You _wished_ you could see his expression...

  
  


... You took a few steps closer, clearing the distance, until his broad back was just within arms reach. Your heart joined the nervous bitter taste in your mouth. Everything you’d been rehearsing in your head had vanished instantly- what were you supposed to tell him? What could you possibly say that would improve his mood? You couldn’t afford to chase him around all night long if every time you saw him he bar hopped.

  
  


He was so close.

  
  


And yet, he felt further away from you than he’d ever been from you before.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Instead of saying his name and potentially spooking him (and also maybe because your throat felt like someone had glued it shut), you quietly slipped into the empty barstool beside him.

  
  


... Now that you were on his side, you could see what he was hunched over; a line of shot glasses in front of him. There was five of them altogether- he’d already emptied three of them and was nursing the fourth, staring into its shallow clear contents... until he heard the rustling of you taking the spot next to him.

  
  


That made him glance up from the drink.

  
  


...

  
  


When he first looked at you, his expression was set in a scowl, smile false and unfriendly, a frown-crease between his brows. His eyelights were little more than distant crimson stars... barely distinguishable from the blackness in his sockets. He was clearly expecting some random person to have taken the barstool adjacent and he was _not_ pleased about it.

  
  


... Then said expression shifted, apparently once his drunken mind recognised your face. His eyelights widened and fuzzed, his brows uncreased, his grin dropped its forced corners and settled into a genuine, soft smile...

  
  


...

  
  


And immediately, as if remembering he was supposed to be angry, his face reset into the same glower... maybe with his eyelights a little larger.

  
  


He turned back to his drink, shoulders re-hunching.

  
  


...

  
  


... but he didn’t teleport away.

  
  


...

  
  


You swallowed again.

  
  


“... Red.” You said, trying to keep your voice as soft as possible.

  
  


Maybe, if you approached this carefully...

  
  


He wasn’t helping at all, but you didn’t expect him to- he responded to his name by knocking his drink back, placing the empty glass next to the others and starting to eye up the last one. You could feel the bartender’s suspicious gaze on him, and you too by extension... you wondered if it was the drunkenness or the fact that Red was the only monster in a bar that was situated in what seemed like a predominantly human area.

  
  


“... I’m not going to make you leave, Red.” You kept your tone gentle and patient, leaning closer to him despite his unfriendly aura, placing a hand on his shoulder out of instinct to comfort. “No one’s going to make y-”

  
  


\- he turned in his seat, both pulling his shoulder out of your reach and moving so that his face was mere _inches_ from yours, easily looming over you with those bottomless sockets. His ‘lips’ peeled back to bare his huge shark teeth- a heavy, inhospitable growl erupted out of his chest.

  
  


_“don’t touch me.”_ His very _words_ were interlaced with the growl; it made his voice deeper, grittier... more ferocious.

  
  


_(H-had he always been that big?)_

  
  


You felt the eyes of a few members of the bar suddenly start to bore into you and Red (but particularly Red), one or two conversations cutting short, watching closely. They’d been pretending to ignore you before; now their attention was properly caught.

  
  


You also felt your breath catch in your chest, fist balling on the bartop.

  
  


... However... you didn’t need any help, as much as you appreciated the fact that it seemed these people would be quick to jump to your defence. You stared up into Red’s sockets, not moving a centimetre when he rounded on you, letting yourself remain unflinching and unmoved under both his shadow and his glare.

  
  


... But you’d have been lying if you said you were _totally_ unafraid. Those teeth, that low growl, his overly-threatening posture as he clearly tried to frighten you... you weren’t _unused_ to this level of aggression from the skeletons; you were just unused to it being directed at _you._ He wasn’t acting like the Red you loved and you weren’t certain how much you could trust him to be gentle.

  
  


...

  
  


But in the end, it was still Red. You knew what he was doing, you’d seen glimpses of it before- his instinctive reaction when he was afraid of someone peering too deep. The possibility of losing everything had struck him like physical injury, and now here he was... a wild animal hiding its wound by bristling its fur and baring its teeth.

  
  


Now that there was a chance he would go back... the wall he’d brought down was coming back up with a vengeance.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


When you didn’t flinch or cower, or even show any outward signs of fear, simply staring up into his eyelights, Red’s ‘ferocious’ expression faltered a bit, lips falling back over his teeth at the edges.

  
  


“... Don’t growl at me.” You said, softly. Your voice was gentle but it had an underlying strength and finality to it.

  
  


You weren’t even sure how you mustered the strength.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


He let out a sharp breath through his nasal cavity, like a posturing buffalo losing its nerve, before he pursed his lips over his teeth and turned, semi-defeatedly, back to his drink.

  
  


... You let yourself breathe, hand unclenching, personal space restored. At least this time he wasn’t hunched over the bar like quasimodo; he kept himself upright.

  
  


“...i ain’t goin’ back.” He grunted, avoiding eye contact, raising the drink a little. “i ain’t never goin’ back.”

  
  


“... No one’s going to make you go. You left before I had the time to explain that.” You felt like you were talking to both a grouchy lion and a frightened child at the same time. “I understand you’re afraid of going and that’s totally okay, w-”

  
  


“i’m not _scared.”_ He snarled, cutting over you, turning away further.

  
  


“... Red.” You took your hand off the bar top. “You’re _absolutely_ scared.”

  
  


...

  
  


Silence on his part.

  
  


Maybe, even now, he knew he couldn’t hide that kind of thing from you.

  
  


...

  
  


“great.” He swirled his shot a little. “if you understand me so well an’ yer happy to have me here in this universe then ya won’t mind me not goin’ back to the apartment.”

  
  


“We’ll all be worried about you while you’re out in this state, Red. We just want you to come back home.”

  
  


“we?” He wasn’t looking at you but you still could see his brows draw together and his frown deepen. “others are here too, huh?”

  
  


... You frowned too. “Of course they are. We’ve _all_ been looking for you. You’re on the opposite side of the city, I didn’t _walk_ here.”

  
  


...He knocked back the last glass with that characteristic Red-like totally unaffected disposition, considering the strength of whatever drink he’d downed. It reminded you of that date with him, what felt like so long ago- before Skull showed up (it was so strange to think of your life before those two appeared in it). Just a sip of the ‘fire whiskey’ he’d ordered was enough to send you into a throat-burnt coughing fit, but Red drank the whole thing in one go with somewhat of a note of _disappointment._

  
  


_“where i’m from,” he chuckled, cracking his knuckles casually, “they make it a lot stronger.”_

  
  


“whole gang is here then?” He grumbled, pushing the glass away from him, seemingly _more_ uncomfortable now that he didn’t have anything to fiddle with. “got enough hands to wrangle me into the machine.”

  
  


...

  
  


... You forced down a hint of upset you felt crawling up from your stomach- he thought _you_ would force someone into a machine? You, of all people?

  
  


...

  
  


You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but... that was something else you’d been thinking about. Your eyes cast downward, away from Red’s face. You’d pushed it to the back of your mind until now, unwilling to give him... unwilling to give _Hit_ any more headspace than he’d already taken away from you...

  
  


... But...

  
  


_... Sending Red back would be exactly what Hit was planning on doing to you. That was it, wasn’t it? His whole plan._

  
  


Your hand balled on your lap.

  
  


_It was exactly what’d been seconds away from happening to you._

  
  


_Exactly what had traumatised you so badly._

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


You quietened your racing thoughts by telling yourself _no,_ you _weren’t_ like _him._

  
  


...

  
  


_Because unlike Hit, whether or not Skull and Red went home was always going to be_ _**their** _ _choice._

  
  


(There was something slightly ironic and comedic, in a horrible way, about how Red had been so concerned with the fact that he might’ve done what Hit did to you because they were so similar... but now, Red was terrified you were going to do that to _him.)_

  
  


...

  
  


You took a little breath. Red was scared and paranoid and had convinced himself you and the guys were out to get him; you just had to... give him the time to realise he was safe.

  
  


...

  
  


“... you ok, sweetheart?”

  
  


... You glanced up, not realising you’d closed your eyes, leaning some of your bodyweight against the counter itself. Red was up, and alert; he’d turned himself in his seat so that his whole body was toward you and completely away from the drinks, a hand on your leg that you hadn’t even realised he’d placed there, eyelights drilling into you...

  
  


... Blinking, you forced the invasive thoughts out of your head, shaking it a little and putting on a smile.

  
  


“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” You didn’t sound alright.

  
  


“you sure?” His eyelights were _piercing_ now. As if he was trying to see past your eyes and into your mind to find out what was upsetting you.

  
  


... You couldn’t help your heart swelling a little despite your terrible mood. It definitely felt good to know that, even if he was upset, Red was still looking out for you... so much so that it seemed like the spook he’d gotten from you not replying had knocked a lot of the angry wind out of his sails.

  
  


...

  
  


You took the opportunity to press your hand over his that he’d placed on your thigh, trying to match the intensity of his gaze (and definitely failing miserably).

  
  


“... You know I’d be the last person on Earth to advocate forcing someone into another universe. Right?” You said, soft, voice a hair's breadth away from cracking.

  
  


...

  
  


... It sucked that you had to play the Hit card at that point in order to convince Red you weren’t out to get him.

  
  


But at this point, you just wanted him to stop being afraid. To let you in again, to understand that you wanted him here.

  
  


You wanted him _home._

  
  


...

  
  


“... i... s’pose...” His shoulders fell a little too. “... you do got the most experience in that department.”

  
  


... You just replied to that with a smile. _Yeah, unfortunately so._

  
  


“... i... i panicked.” The wall behind his eyelights was _finally_ coming back down. “i don’t wanna go back. not now i’ve got all this.”

  
  


“You’re not going back. I promise you you’re not.” You laced your fingers with his, hands palm-to-palm on your leg. “I _promise.”_

  
  


...

  
  


He stared at you. It felt strange to think that just a few minutes ago, this same guy was baring his teeth at you and trying to physically intimidate you into leaving. Now, he...

  
  


... He looked more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him.

  
  


...

  
  


... After a moment’s hesitation, he squeezed your hand.

  
  


...

  
  


... You, at last, allowed yourself to let that last little breath out, the tension you’d been carrying since the moment Sans told you the machine was fixed finally unwinding. You clasped Red’s hand with both of yours and let your head and shoulders sag a bit like your strings had been cut, barely aware of Red’s gentle chuckle... Your tongue felt thick in your mouth, your eyes were heavy and sore, and headache was forming at your temples...

  
  


.... But it just felt so _good_ to have Red back with you again.

  
  


By chance, you looked down at the solid skeletal hand you were holding, rubbing your thumb over a length of bone in his hand like how he’d ran his thumb over the soft skin of your palm so many times...

  
  


...

  
  


And your smile fell a little, confused.

  
  


... There was... _something_ on his knuckles.

  
  


“... Uh... Red.” You said, concern starting to rise, looking back up at him from under your lashes. “You...”

  
  


... He glanced down at his giant skeletal mitt too, wondering why your hands had retreated ever-so-slightly from his.

  
  


“... ah.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “that...”

  
  


There was small amounts of _blood_ flecked across his extremity, that horribly familiar browned red colour, gathered mostly on the ridges of bone where phalanges met hand. His knuckles. It was almost as if he’d punched someone so hard, something on their end... had just _split._ It was dark, dry and flaking, but it was _absolutely_ blood.

  
  


“... i got... in a bit of a scrap. that's all.”

  
  


The unimpressed face you levied him with was enough to make him start to re-explain without a moment to lose.

  
  


“i was... i was sulkin’, tryin’ ta get a drink, and some loser started being all postury and tryna go about startin’ a fight. sayin’ real dumb shit that wouldn’t have gotten to me if i wasn’t feelin’ so down. y’know what some human men are like when they’re drunk and angry... think they can take on the world. can’t see obvious danger when it’s right in their face.”

  
  


“... Yeah.” You were surprised to find yourself already feeling kind of ashamed when Red was only three lines into his story. Your own race could be such _dicks_ sometimes.

  
  


He rubbed the back of his skull with the hand you weren’t holding. “i dunno, i was the biggest guy in the room, maybe they didn’t like that. they said as much stupid crap as they possibly could ‘ntil they found what pissed me off most and started homin’ in on it.”

  
  


_“Fuck are you gonna do, freak, punch me?”_

  
  


_“talk ‘bout my darlin' one more time an’ maybe i will.”_

  
  


“... i wasn’t helpin’ either.” He hummed. “soon as he found a sore spot i got up in his face. an’ he wouldn’t back off or shut his mouth, so... i just...”

  
  


...

  
  


“You whooped his ass, right?”

  
  


...

  
  


... He seemed surprised, but... he quickly grinned, cheekbones finding some colour and eyelights regaining a bit of their spark.

  
  


“oh, _completely._ one punch and he was on the ground.”

  
  


You had no emotional energy left to be scared. Nor the energy to question him, or his story. Right now... right now, you just wanted to trust, to be trusted, and let your mind relax. Instead of letting yourself consider the fact that Red had assaulted someone and was apparently strong enough to cause bleeding with a single punch you just let out a tiny sigh and entertained yourself with the mental image of Red beating up racists.

  
  


“Perfect.”

  
  


...

  
  


The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you explored the crevices on his hands, surprisingly unbothered by the dried blood. You felt like you’d already experienced much worse than a little bit of bodily fluids.

  
  


...

  
  


“... Skull is going to bring his Papyrus through.” You said, glancing up from the knuckles to a man you loved so much even looking at his face made your chest squeeze a little in relief that he was no longer upset. “He’s going to stay here, they both are. Do you think you’d... want to do that?”

  
  


...

  
  


Red’s expression for a few moments was blank. Like he was too stunned to even muster up an emotion, to move his face in any way.

  
  


His teeth parted a little, and he sucked in a breath-

  
  


...

  
  


... but he stopped, and no sound came out.

  
  


...

  
  


“... i don’t know.” He eventually settled on. “let’s... talk about it later. once we get back.”

  
  


“And once you pay for your drinks.”

  
  


...

  
  


Finally, _finally,_ he properly and genuinely laughed, sockets lifting in the corners, a few gruff breaths escaping his chest in what you could only assume was feather-soft chuckles.

  
  


“... yeah. once i pay for my drinks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wew! Hit the end of Llama's published works for now. I should update this pretty quickly after actual Aggre updates, so hopefully anyone relying on this version won't have to wait around too much longer.


	39. And then there were 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How's Bones for a name?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust Llama to update the very day I finally upload this.
> 
> Remember Llama loves you all and demands you keep yourself safe and sane!!

_he's gonna love the surface. i just know it._

  
  


... Red didn’t talk about it when you all got home.

  
  


He paid for the drinks, at least- you made sure of that. But by the time the two of you exited the bar, you ended up joining everyone else in being too busy being relieved to bring up any sensitive home-universe-related subjects.

  
  


... It was amazing how much you could miss someone after just a few hours of them being gone.

  
  


... The weeks seemed to just slip by, after everyone was home and settled. You started going back to work (with the addition of someone teleporting you to and from the building and some surprise visits to your desk in the middle of the day) and that definitely made the days feel far shorter than they did when you were still home recovering. You never thought you’d see the day when you’d be happy to be back to work... to be somewhere distracting, where your mind could drift away and settle into ‘robot visitor greeting mode’. It was like you blinked, and a week had gone. Then another, then another, then another... almost as if life was finally settling back into that rhythm you didn’t realise you’d missed so much. After two months you managed to drum up the courage to walk yourself home from work without needing to be picked up; you entered the apartment to the smell of one of Skull’s cakes in the oven and the guys waiting at the door for you, pulling party poppers and grinning like idiots. Nightmares about Hit went from tri-weekly to once a week. The smell of a lemon-scented detergent on a passerby’s clothing only made your heart race; you didn’t black out or scream. You walked to the grocery store alone... granted, you called Red to pick you up because nerves overwhelmed you, but you still managed the distance.

  
  


Before you knew it, you’d taken so many baby steps you’d walked a mile.

  
  


And it sure felt good to get your feet back.

  
  


Besides, it wasn’t like there was much time to think anymore. Even when you _were_ home, things were busy, there was stuff going on, organising to be done... for good reason after all. The plans were underway to bring Skull’s Papyrus through to this universe.

  
  


... And more importantly, to get them somewhere to live first.

  
  


You tried to imagine what it’d be like, to have _another_ skeleton in the house. And from what you’d heard about Skull’s brother it’d be someone even _taller_ than him... You tried to imagine sharing more of the apartment that was clearly made for three people, at max, you tried to imagine that extra bit of mess that always came with another living being, you tried to imagine someone _taller than Skull_... God, your poor neck, craning up at all those massive skeletons all the time...

  
  


... and then once you were done imagining that, you had to start picturing the apartment without Skull.

  
  


The realisation that he wouldn’t be living with you anymore hit you a lot harder than you’d anticipated at first. You tried to reason with yourself; _I mean, it’s not like I’ll never see him again, right? At worst I won’t be able to visit him every day. He probably won’t even move that far. Since it’s just him and his brother, he won’t exactly need somewhere intensely spacious or high end... with a bit of luck he could even be in the same neighbourhood._

  
  


... But... no matter how you span it in your head to comfort yourself, it felt like... a partner was moving out. A boyfriend was leaving...

  
  


... Something in your chest squeezed at the thought of your bear not being here all the time. It just wouldn’t be the same.

  
  


...

  
  


... You should’ve guessed things couldn’t stay this way forever.

  
  


...

  
  


You just made a mental note to treasure having him over constantly all the more, and to make an excessive, perhaps slightly annoyingly so, effort to regularly go over to wherever Skull called home once he _did_ move out. You helped him familiarise himself with how staying in an apartment would actually work, things like rent and electricity, water, tips you’d learned from a few years apartment hopping, etc... you even helped him set up his first bank account (it was definitely going to be awkward to get him an apartment when he had absolutely no credit history).

  
  


... Finding and buying somewhere to live wasn’t exactly a _quick_ process either- you definitely still had time.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


And then you saw the sign.

  
  


When you noticed it in the corner of your eye on your way up the apartment block stairs, shoddily taped to Tristian’s door, it took you a comically long time to process the repercussions of what it said. To be fair to you the font was pretty small and you were tired from a long day at work...

  
  


... But either way, as soon as it processed, you were going up the stairs two at a time. You burst into the living room, almost tripping over yourself as you kicked off your shoes- you could tell from the way Sans leapt up from the couch he was expecting something terrible to have happened to you.

  
  


Instead...

  
  


“T-Tristian’s apartment is up for rent!”

  
  


...

  
  


_“what?”_

  
  


... As it turned out, Tristian and his roommate had had a serious falling out of some kind (at least, that was the apartment block gossip) and the two had decided they didn’t want to be roommates anymore. Neither could afford the rent on their own, so in the end, they chose to go separate ways and get their own places. You and the guys had completely missed the drama; being too busy recovering from your... _escapades_ with Hit to be keyed in to the usual neighbourly gossip... which was a real pity because as much as you liked to consider yourself someone who was above drama you were an absolute _sucker_ for when shit went down in other people’s lives.

  
  


....

  
  


... Sometimes you wondered what people would do if they knew just how close they’d come to having their entire universe frozen because one man didn’t know how to take the word ‘no’.

  
  


So just like that, the apartment searching period was shaved down _significantly,_ and the renting process began. Sans, true to his word, gave Skull the money for the deposit, and even went out of his way to pretend to be Skull’s ‘employer’ in order to make it seem like he had a decent income, spinning some bullshit to the landlord that Skull was simply getting his life together after living in a bad area which is why all his information was so new.

  
  


... Which... wasn’t _entirely_ a lie.

  
  


Skull only being two floors down from you definitely made you feel _much_ better about him moving out. He was literally a flight of stairs away... you could tell he was relieved too; no one really wanted to be that far away from each other.

  
  


And once you weren’t holding onto every moment like it was the last time you’d see him... it all flew by even faster. One minute you were waiting for Sans and Skull to come back from discussing the prospect of ‘emotional support pets’ with the landlord, the next you were taking inventory pictures, the next you were helping Skull move some basic necessities like beds and cooking equipment into _his_ apartment.

  
  


(... Well...helping was a _strong_ word. You moved a few small utensils, Red and Skull carried boxes so heavy you couldn’t even push them across the floor while they teased you and called you precious and delicate.)

  
  


You even helped Skull put together a list of things he wanted to do with his brother once he’d brought him to the surface. It was the really little things you’d never considered a luxury; buying apartment furniture and decorations together, visiting the ocean, spending a whole day indoors doing nothing at all, watching a movie in an actual cinema. The one Skull seemed to be the most excited about was going to a fully stocked supermarket. Seeing him get so excited about being able to share these things with his Pap was just...

  
  


... Well, you could hardly stop smiling.

  
  


“i wonder.... what we’ll call him.” Skull mumbled, checking his list for the umpteenth time to see if he missed anything he was desperate to include.

  
  


“... Your Pap?” You asked. You had your phone out, a bunch of tabs with different locations Skull had mentioned open and ready. You were _really_ enjoying how fast the phone was... it was new, after all, considering your beloved ol’ reliable phone was totally destroyed when you threw it at Hit’s face. You got to keep your old number, though.

  
  


“we all have nicknames.” He rolled the pencil across the table a little. “calling him pap... will be confusing. he’ll... need something...”

  
  


You pursed your lips. “... You’re right. I didn’t think of that. Well, you came up with _your_ name. What do you think he’ll like?”

  
  


His eyelight drifted, contracting a fraction as he thought. Nowadays it seemed like his iris was in a constant state of being wide, of being happy... it barely ever shrank. You liked that a lot. “... something... to do with skeletons. he’s real proud... of bein’ one.”

  
  


...

  
  


“Well, if he calls himself Bones,” you said, jokingly. “then you guys can be Skull and Bones.”

  
  


... He glanced up, making eye contact with you again.

  
  


...

  
  


You suddenly felt embarrassed, waving it away. “I-I’m joking...”

  
  


“no. no, actually, that’s really good.” The corners of his mouth perked up into a bigger smile. “he’d _love_ that.”

  
  


“But...” you couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning forward in your chair a little. “... Doesn’t your brother hate puns?”

  
  


“pap loves puns.” Skull said, writing ‘skull and xbones’ onto his list, in his shaky, large handwriting. “always has. he makes puns... all the time. he just, hates _my_ puns. well... he _used_ to hate mine... but humour is a good way... to keep yourself going.”

  
  


“So...” You had to purse your lips to stop yourself from laughing at your own joke before you said it. “I guess you could say being underground made him more... _punderstanding.”_

  
  


It usually took Skull about 5 or so seconds to get a joke that’d just been said. He would clock immediately from the tone of your voice and the unusualness of the word that it was some kind of pun, so what he’d do is stare at you with a completely and utterly blank expression, _one, two, three, four..._

  
  


... And then he’d get it, he’d connect the dots, and his whole face would light up like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

  
  


... Was it bad you found it absolutely adorable?

  
  


He chuckled, vibrating your chest, a tiny dusting of ultramarine appearing on his cheekbones.

  
  


“y-y’see...” He pointed at you. _“that’s_ the kind of joke... he’d hate.”

  
  


“I just...” You shook your head, still grinning. “... Wouldn’t calling yourself Bones be like... me naming myself Limbs?”

  
  


“not quite.” His voice was brimming with mirth, and he was looking at you like you were a small child who’d just asked an incredibly adorable but simultaneously _dumb_ question. “monsters are... obviously different from one another. so... different monster races... can be really proud of their particular race. and their magic, or their culture. plant monsters, in particular... they’re _really_ proud. pap is... super proud of being a skeleton. it’d just be... naming yourself... after something you love, and are proud of.”

  
  


“... Okay. That makes sense.”

  
  


...

  
  


“... hey...” His working socket squinted at his paper little. “what’s the name of... like, a tooth doctor?”

  
  


“... A dentist?”

  
  


“yeah. dentist.” Skull noted something else down on the paper.

  
  


You squinted too, slightly confused- why did he want to know what a dentist was? That was hardly something scenic to visit. You looked at what he’d written...

  
  


“... You want to... make an ‘appointment for pap’s teeth’...?” You repeated, unsure.

  
  


...

  
  


“... he has... teeth issues...”

  
  


_Teeth issues?_ You sat forward again. “...Like what?”

  
  


Skull just gave you a _look,_ and softly shook his head.

  
  


You took the message and didn’t probe any further about the ‘bad teeth’, instead moving on and asking him if he thought Pap (Bones now, right?) would want to visit a proper restaurant.

  
  


But that got you _thinking._

  
  


(Never a good thing.)

  
  


Skull was... well. _You_ thought he was handsome, but he wasn’t exactly... conventionally attractive. Huge, misshapen sharp teeth, broken cranium, claws for hands.

  
  


He explained to you that a monster’s body reacts to the state of its Soul. A lot of their physical form is from their parents, but the twist was that because the very _being_ of a monster was attached so firmly to their body, the emotional state of a monster could _drastically_ affect their physical form.

  
  


It could happen in good ways; for example, Skull explained that gender dysphoria just wasn’t a _thing_ in monster culture, because you were born as what your Soul wanted- what _you_ wanted. The idea that someone could be born in the wrong body was a completely foreign concept to him. It was generally just accepted that what you’re told is what is true, because it was almost impossible to find labels that could cover the _massive_ expanse that was monster gender and biological sex. (I mean... some monsters had no gender or sex, like slimes, and some were hermaphrodites who would change over time or could even do so at _will._ Nobody really cared at that point.) It was a _huge_ monster faux pas to assume someone’s gender was anything other than what they told you it was.

  
  


But on the opposite end, it could result in... _problems._ Skull said that living in the Underground had changed monsters mentally; everyone became paranoid, afraid, hopeless, vicious, _angry..._ those who fell to the constant hunger had the most drastic changes. Because their magic was constantly lashing out and acting out of deeply instilled terror, the negative energy seeped into their Souls like a cold rot and caused horrible bodily contortions and changes.

  
  


He, for one, got taller. _Much_ taller. His desperation to be big and scary sank down into the pits of his Soul and, over time... his phalanges grew into claws, his teeth sharpened and multiplied, his form got wider and more solid... able to take a blow.

  
  


It obviously didn’t help that he had the massive hole in his head; leaking magic and destabilising his form even further. But... it was the deep, gripping, _constant_ hunger and fear that really broke him.

  
  


That broke _everyone._

  
  


_“... i’ll never change back to normal. even if i wanted to, real badly.” He said, softly, playing with your hair. “pap... might get a bit shorter, or... his spine might get a bit straighter... that’s it. wounds heal, but... there are scars on our souls, now. scars that’ll never go.”_

  
  


... You couldn’t help but start to imagine what his Papyrus looked like.

  
  


\---

  
  


... The day to activate the machine was already there far too suddenly for your taste. Everything was _ready..._ there was a home ready, a place to sleep, food and water, and way into the universe.

  
  


... It was time to do the thing everyone was most nervous about.

  
  


Bring Skull’s Papyrus through.

  
  


At first, for you personally, the most terrifying part was the idea of seeing a machine again. Just the thought had been enough to scare you for _weeks_ on end- you didn’t want to look at anything interdimensional ever again. It took you an embarrassingly long amount of time to even go into the boys’ room...

  
  


The act of sitting down (on one of the guy’s beds) and looking across the room at the thing was... an interesting experience. Sans and Red were bustling about it, flipping small switches, entering key strings of info, taking little notes and writing down readings...

  
  


You found yourself staring at it. And...

  
  


... Not feeling the amount of fear you thought you would.

  
  


It was an interdimensional gateway, of course. Just like Hit’s. But... it was shorter, the sides were thicker, and the whole thing was built out of significantly lower quality metal. The buttons were in different places, the screen was smaller...

  
  


... It just felt...

  
  


... Friendlier somehow?

  
  


You let out a breath.

  
  


_Maybe this won’t be so bad._

  
  


Skull could hardly sit still. He was sat next to you, squeezing your hand just a little too tight every now and then... you could tell he desperately wanted to be helpful, but he just didn’t have the necessary motor functions. If he couldn’t play a game of Guitar Hero he’d be nothing but a hindrance when dealing with a phenomenally precise machine that was going to pinpoint a single timeline in an infinite number of other timelines and tear a gateway through time and space to get to it.

  
  


... You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked at him. It was like he was going to burst out of pure excitement.

  
  


“... alright.” Sans said, pressing a smaller button and then hovering his phalange over a larger one, gesturing at Red and looking at Skull, who jumped out of his seat so quick the whole bed rattled. Your hand felt significantly emptier without him. “we’re all set. ready?”

  
  


Skull nodded. ... Your heart started to race.

  
  


“you’ve got ten minutes before it reactivates.” Sans’ voice was stern, but trusting, as he looked up at his larger self. “remember, you both need to be within five feet of the machine when it starts trying to pull you through. touch it if you have to. and, obviously, _don’t let_ _ **anyone else**_ _get through.”_

  
  


Another resolute nod.

  
  


His jaw set.

  
  


“... okay. see you in 15.”

  
  


...

  
  


Unlike Hit’s machine, that aggressively pulled in absolutely everything around it in a deafening roar of noise and light, Sans and Red’s machine was quiet and precise. Skull stood in front of the gateway and took a deep breath, before Sans pressed the larger, final button... there was a flash that blinded you completely for a few moments, catching you off guard and making you jump...

  
  


... and when you looked back, Skull was gone.

  
  


...

  
  


It was the longest 10 minutes of your life.

  
  


No one spoke. Not a single word was said. Red slowly moved to lean on the wall, and Sans remained where he was against the machine, watching the readings going by... it was dead silent and you could cut the air with a knife.

  
  


...

  
  


... You kinda expected something to go terribly wrong.

  
  


Knowing your luck and what had happened to you over the course of what felt like the most _fucking eventful year in history,_ you really honestly expected there to be some kind of disaster. Maybe Skull would get stuck, or he wouldn’t come out, or he’d get sent to the wrong universe, or he’d come back alone... the whole time you were sat there on the edge of the bed watching the machine, hunched over with your elbows on your knees and a thin layer of perspiration forming on your brow, your mind couldn’t stop running through everything that could possibly go awry in the short 10 minutes you had.

  
  


... But another part of you knew that the guys had been working so impossibly hard, so ridiculously intricately over the machine for the past 8 weeks straight to ensure it was in perfect working order, and that it couldn’t go anything but completely smoothly.

  
  


This wasn’t child’s play, after all. This was messing with the thin veil that separated entire universes.

  
  


You trusted them.

  
  


...

  
  


_Tick... tick... tick... tick..._

  
  


8 minutes.

  
  


_Tick... tick... tick..._

  
  


4 minutes.

  
  


_Tick... tick..._

  
  


2 minutes.

  
  


_Tick..._

  
  


...

  
  


“okay.” Sans said, snapping the silence. You and Red both blinked, emerging from your own minds- something was _happening._ “ten seconds and it’ll start bringing them through.”

  
  


...

  
  


The machine began to whirr, gently. Like an old computer. You sucked in a breath, and couldn’t help but stand up...

  
  


...

  
  


_Vrrrrrr..._

  
  


You started to beg to yourself, silently, swallowing. _Please bring Skull back, please bring Skull back..._

  
  


“4... 3...”

  
  


The whirring climbed in intensity, getting louder- a chugging sound-

  
  


“2... 1.”

  
  


_A flash-_ you should’ve seen it coming, you jumped and let out a tiny yelp-

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


The whirring stopped. And there was Skull, holding his brother’s hand.

  
  


...

  
  


The first thing you noted about Skull’s brother was that he was _absolutely huge._

  
  


Just like how Papyrus was a head taller than Sans, Skull’s Pap was a head taller than him- which meant the top of his cranium was a few inches away from scraping the ceiling. The top of your head? It would meet the bottom of his ribcage. He was, quite literally, almost double your height.

  
  


On first inspection the guy just looked like Papyrus but taller, and with an odd, sickly greyish tint to his bones. He was wearing the same costume you’d seen in photos Sans had taken of his younger bro while they were still living in the Underground- the strange ‘battle body’ consisting of the white top, large shoulder pads, blue shorts, red boots and scarf, etc...

  
  


... But it was all falling apart. His trademark red scarf was more of a brown and hole-filled _rag_ that hung limply around his neck. It was all _covered_ in stains, the centre of the chestpiece had several clear tear marks, some mended with confused and clumsy-looking (but somewhat energetic seeming...?) stitching and some neatly repaired by a lazy practised hand. The gloves were splitting at the seams, his boot tops had separated from their soles... it was like the whole outfit had just been left on for _years_ while the wearer grew and grew and _grew._

  
  


To you at least, his whole body seemed... _spindly._ He was tall, yes, but not tall and wide like Skull. It was as if someone had grabbed him at both ends and just _pulled._ His spine was slightly crooked, and it just felt wrong to look at, the angles in his elbows and knees reminded you _instinctively_ of a giant spider.

  
  


...

  
  


Your eyes travelled up, _way up,_ to his face.

  
  


_... And then you understood why Skull didn’t want to talk about his brother’s teeth._

  
  


Papyrus’ perfectly neat smile was long gone. The teeth were jagged, mismatching, some on the lower row _overlapped_ one another or jutted out, some were missing- each tooth was an individual irregular wafer-thin blade, like he had a mouth full of _scalpels._ Before you could stop yourself your mind (helpfully) supplied you with the mental image of his jaw clamping down on something soft and simply piercing straight through.

  
  


... And on his side was Skull, still holding his brother’s hand, and grinning like a fool.

  
  


...

  
  


...

  
  


Silence.

  
  


Then, the giant’s mouth opened, and-

  
  


“WOWEE!” He said, making everyone in the room simultaneously jump. Yep, just as loud as your universe’s counterpart. His empty sockets were surveying the room with a taken aback expression to them. “YOU... YOU REALLY _WEREN’T_ PLAYING ONE OF YOUR PRACTICAL JOKES ON ME, BROTHER!”

  
  


“t-told you.” Skull said, all but glowing. “we’re on the surface.”

  
  


“WELL, IF YOU WERE TELLING THE TRUTH, THEN WHERE’S THE-”

  
  


... He noticed you.

  
  


_Oh shit-_

  
“THE _**HUMAN!”**_


	40. Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.” - Roald Dahl

they'll get along swimmingly. ... i hope. 

Despite the fact that he moved with an almost inhuman speed, empty sockets zeroed in on you with a terrifying intensity that you had only seen before on Skull in his deepest rages, Pap'd barely taken two steps forward with those giant legs and you’d barely stumbled a single pace back before there was a veritable wall of skeletons blocking the space between the two of you. Sans’ form flickered into existence directly in front of you, Red teleported in front of Sans, and Skull directly before his Papyrus- he placed his hands heavily on his brother’s shoulders, and it stopped the giant dead in his tracks. 

“w-woah, bro, just... just hold up a second...” He was clearly trying to come across as strong but a slight shake in his voice betrayed his nervousness. The two were holding the most intense eye contact you’d ever seen in your life, staring deep into one another’s sockets. “remember what i said. surface, right?” 

... A beat of silence. 

... 

Then... it was like a thick fog behind Pap's sockets lifted. He blinked, emotion fading slowly into his face... and he stood up straighter, bringing up his gloved hands and pressing his fingers together. 

“... WOWEE.” He said, smiling awkwardly, starting to sweat... he looked... ashamed? You put your hands on Sans’s shoulders, a little taken aback at how quickly this Pap had shifted personalities. “GOODNESS, I’M... WELL, FANCY SWITCHING INTO HUNTING MODE IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMEONE’S HOME! HOW VERY RUDE OF ME!” 

... Skull seemed satisfied with that, his smile weakly returning, and he let go of his brother’s shoulders, stepping out of the way a bit. The second he did, the guys noticeably relaxed (though it was clear they were still on guard). Sans reached up to his shoulder to give your hand a reassuring squeeze- you could feel Red’s gaze on you, too. 

Pap focused on you again. This time, with some life behind his empty sockets. 

... 

... You swallowed; you’d be lying if you said you weren’t afraid. But it definitely felt nice to have Red, Sans and Skull all leap to your defence so quickly... you felt certain that their reflexes were fast enough and that the worst thing that could happen here was you getting a slight scare. 

... 

... Pap waved at you. 

“HELLO THERE, TINY HUMAN! MY BROTHER INFORMED ME THAT MY NICKNAME IS BONES. A NAME THAT IS VERY CLEARLY A PUN ON HIS NICKNAME, ONE THAT I REFUSE TO ADMIT I LIKE, BUT WILL ADOPT NONETHELESS.” 

“... bro, you just ad-” 

“IT’S VERY NICE TO MEET YOU!” His wicked teeth curled into a smile. “I APOLOGISE FOR STARTLING YOU, I LOST CONTROL OF MYSELF FOR A MOMENT. IT WAS INCREDIBLY EMBARRASSING AND IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN.” 

... 

You were momentarily taken aback that, even with a maw of literal razor blades, he could somehow look... 

... really sweet. 

... You pursed your lips and shuffled out from behind Sans, cautiously, giving Bones a weak smile. ... In the corner of your eye, you could see Skull’s own smile widen a little; it made sense he’d be happy to see his favourite people bonding. 

“... It’s okay.” You said, taking a moment to decide what to do before eventually deciding to reach a hand out for Pap to shake. “We all have our moments. I’m (y/n).” 

“PAPYRUS!” He said, ever-so enthusiastically, stepping forward and grabbing your hand with both of his massive ones, shaking so hard your whole arm was involved with the movement. Your hand was as large as his palm. “WELL, BONES NOW! I QUITE LIKE BONES! IT’S SNAPPY AND THEMATICALLY APPROPRIATE! HONESTLY, I’M SORT OF IN SHOCK, I THOUGHT MY BROTHER WAS JUST DOING ANOTHER ONE OF HIS INFURIATING PRANKS ON ME WHEN HE STARTED ACTING SO HAPPY BUT HE WAS TALKING FAR MORE THAN USUAL AND WEARING DIFFERENT CLOTHES AND WHEN HE TALKED ABOUT GOING TO THE SURFACE I HAD MY SUSPICIONS BECAUSE I KNEW HE’D NEVER JOKE ABOUT THE SURFACE, OH MY GOODNESS I’M STILL SHAKING YOUR HAND, THIS IS GETTING AWKWARD!” 

He let go, putting his hands on his hips. ... You blinked, arm still stuck out- your shoulder socket felt strange after being thrown around like that. 

“AND THERE ARE SO MANY NEW BROTHERS HERE!” He turned to Red and Sans, seemingly in disbelief despite his excited smile. “THERE’S A SMALL BROTHER AND AN EDGY TALLER BROTHER!” 

... You only just managed to stop yourself from choking out a laugh, caught off guard. And you could see it’d had a similar effect on the other two- Sans put a hand over his face and Red hung his head, shoulders quaking with contained chuckles. 

“y’hear that, sans?” Red said, looking over at him, grinning widely. “small brother.” 

“loud and clear, edgy brother.” 

“... am i... the big brother, then?” Skull asked. 

You heard a little ‘ugh’ sound come from Bones (well... it wasn’t little at all, actually. But having spent time with your world’s Papyrus, your brain just combatted his naturally loud voice by instinctively setting the volume down on any sounds he made), and he turned to you again. 

“TINY HUMAN,” He said, teeth twisting into an exaggerated frown. “YOU ARE CLEARLY THE ONLY PERSON HERE I CAN TRUST NOT TO IMMEDIATELY DRIVE ME INSANE WITH CHILDISH HUMOUR. COULD I, PERHAPS, REQUEST A TOUR OF YOUR HOME?” 

“...Course. There isn’t much to tour, but... alright.” 

You led him out of the boys’ room, making sure he minded his head on the door frame. You knew this feeling all too well at this point- innately trusting a new skeleton arrival because he shared the face of someone you held dear. In this case, Papyrus. And although that immediate trust had been dampered by Hit, you felt like... a Papyrus was a different story entirely. 

That, and Bones was Skull’s brother. If you’d learnt anything from your bear, he looked scary, but there wasn’t a single molecule of magic in his system that was deliberately cruel. And craning your neck to look up at him, he certainly had the scary box ticked. 

“Well...” You said, making a small gesture. “This is the hallway. Through that door is the bathroom...” 

“AH YES, THE ROOM OF BATHING!” He reached down, opening the door you gestured to and ducking to see past the top of the door frame and look at what was inside. “... MY! FOR A LIVING SPACE POPULATED BY NO LESS THAN THREE VERSIONS OF MY BROTHER, I AM INCREDIBLY IMPRESSED WITH THE CLEANLINESS!” 

... You stopped. 

You couldn’t help feeling... incredibly flattered by that? Even as Sans snickered behind you, you blinked, taken aback for what felt like the millionth time today. Had your life not already been full of the strangest of ups and downs you would've thought it odd that a monster who stormed you like he was about to eat you (a few minutes ago at most, no less) was now complimenting your clean bathroom. 

“O-oh. Thank you!” You massaged one of your palms. “But I can’t take the credit, they all help me out.” 

Bullying Sans into cleaning up his messes (way back before the others arrived) had sure been a challenge... Determination and Patience going head to head. You won out in the end, of course, but it’d been no easy feat- so the fact that he wasn’t keeping his laundry in a stinking pile on his bed and he no longer left his dishes scattered around the apartment brought you so much joy that you didn’t mind his occasional slip ups, like jackets on the floor, drinking glasses on the coffee table, or coffee granules on the counter. He still adamantly refused to do laundry so you covered that but it was such an improvement from the first few months that you honestly didn’t care. 

Red was also occasionally prone to leaving messes, but as soon as you expressed displeasure with it he cut the habit out. The worst he did nowadays was come inside smelling of cigarette smoke. 

Bones looked down at you again, twisted face seeming... incredulous? He was infinitely more expressive than Skull but his features were so warped you noted it might take a while to start reading him properly “THEY HELP YOU AROUND THE HOUSE?” 

“Yeah. I can bully Sans into assisting, even if he’s an escape artist. Red always offers to help, and the only mess Skull ever makes is with blankets on the couch.” 

Skull was the silent helping type; you’re in the middle of washing up and he just picks up a rag and starts drying. Red was more likely to make a show of offering. 

“c’mon sweetheart, name somethin’ sexier than a guy who’s reliable and who’ll help ya around the house.” 

“... GOODNESS.” Bones said, shaking his head in what seemed like disbelief. The longer you spent with him, the less his teeth bothered you. “GETTING MY BROTHER TO HELP IS LIKE TRYING TO GET BLOOD FROM A STONE. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO HIM!” 

You couldn’t help but smile, moving across the hallway to the living room, trying not to be unnerved by the fact that he could cross distances you walked in a few effortless strides. But before you could begin talking, you turned to look up at him... and saw him staring across the room at something, his face totally expressionless. 

... For a second, your heart dropped too, immediately losing your smile- was something wrong? 

“... Bones?” You asked, trying out the new name. 

... 

“... IS...” His voice had quietened significantly, eyelightless sockets fixated. “IS THAT...?” 

... 

You barely had enough time to ask him what he was referring to- he moved past you, easily clearing the floor in three huge strides, narrowly avoiding bumping his head on the light fixture... 

... To lean down, and press his face right up against the window. 

... 

You’d rarely ever heard Sans’s Papyrus completely silent and still. He was a ball of unstoppable energy and almost always required some kind of output/motion; whether that be as large as loudly talking or grandly gesturing... or something as small as tapping his finger or foot while he was reading. The only times he went completely motionless was when Sans made a terrible pun and he needed a way to show his displeasure... and even then, he could only seem to manage for a few moments. 

You didn’t know if Bones was different, you’d only known him a little while. 

But something about him being completely stone still as he looked out the window, was just... 

... 

Skull approached him from his side, silent as always, giving him a reassuring pat on the back... it echoed inside the hollow battle body like he was knocking on a plastic tupperware. At the same time Sans came up beside you, giving your hand a tiny squeeze. 

“IS THAT...” Bones said, not taking his gaze away from the outside for a moment. You wished you could see his expression. “...IS THAT THE SKY?” 

“... welcome to the surface, bro.” Skull replied, soft... and notably, without needing to pause. 

\--- 

You barely saw Bones or Skull over the next few days. You went with them to buy Bones some new clothes; only monster clothing shops provided sizes large enough for him and you guided them to the same place you bought Skull’s clothes from. He came back with several pairs of jeans and pants almost as long as your body, some shirts and band tees, boots, an adorable tan-coloured jacket... and due to a well-placed clearance sale more pairs of scarves than a man could ever need (“IT’S FOUR FOR THE PRICE OF ONE, SANS, I’M TECHNICALLY MONETARILY ONLY PURCHASING THREE!”). But aside from that, Skull had a sightseeing list to fulfil, and he was out to show his brother as much of the surface as possible. Who were you to disturb them? 

Of course, you saw them at dinner- and every night was a delightful surprise, whether at your apartment or theirs just two floors below. Like his older brother, Bones boasted an affinity for cooking and the incredible ability to make any food taste amazing... and now, with every ingredient possible at his fingertips, he could cook things he admitted he'd been wanting to make for years. Tuesday was the best plate of spaghetti you’d had in your life, Wednesday was a pie so stuffed with filling you could barely manage a single piece, Thursday was a mac and cheese, Friday was a stir fry... on Saturday Skull had to all but wrestle his brother away from the kitchen and convince him to enjoy some takeout. Your favourite meals were the ones you had at their apartment... it was so nice to see it slowly starting to gain personality through furniture and decorations. 

You totally suspected it, but the week just proved it to you; Bones was a total sweetheart. Skull was right, he was pretty intense- the main difference between Papyrus and Bones was that Bones seemed to have completely lost the ability to stop words from coming out of his mouth. When he became excited he was just a waterfall of sentences, words upon words at a pace you could barely keep up with, saying literally anything that popped into his head; only able to stop when someone (usually his brother) gently brought him back down to Earth. Bones was kind, too... you couldn't help but adore how he treated the other two guys like he'd known them their whole lives, still insisting on calling them variants of 'BROTHER'. 

Everything was wonderful. 

... 

Except... 

... Red was acting strange. 

It started when Bones patted Red's cranium and happily called him ‘SHARP BROTHER’. No one else noticed, but you saw it clear as day; his grin was fixed to his face but it was like someone had punched him in the ribcage. When you asked him about it he said it was ‘nothing’ in the voice of someone who didn’t want to be pressed any further... you left it alone, but the moment stuck with you, and you started to keep an eye on him. 

And once you were actively watching him, you began noticing things. He was still his jokey, flirty self; at least, he was when people were looking. As soon as all eyes were off him his smile would fall at the corners, his eyelights would shrink into distant stars... he'd look pensive and lonely. And the moment his sixth sense of knowing the conversation was about to turn to him kicked in he was back to normal Red like nothing was happening. 

It worried you. 

Then one night, he didn’t turn up to dinner at all. He said something unconvincing about not feeling well, and hid in the boys’ room, noting he’d probably be good again tomorrow. 

... 

Of course, you went after him. 

He was sat on a bed, hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees... sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, staring silently at the now-uncovered machine as if it were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. He was so absorbed in his own head he almost didn’t notice you entering the room; the clicking of the door shutting caught his attention and made him glance over. 

“... hey.” He said, forcing a smile for a few seconds before apparently giving up trying to pretend, turning back to the machine. 

“... Hey.” You replied, taking a seat next to him, mirroring his position slightly. 

... 

... 

“sweetheart, i’m f-” 

You cut over as gently as you could. “Don’t even pretend there’s nothing wrong, Red. Something’s been bothering you. Is it Bones?” 

... He moved, sitting up, moving one arm around your waist to pull you a little closer. “s’pose there ain’t any point in lyin’, huh?” 

“No. There isn’t.” You leant your head against his shoulder. 

... He sighed through his nasal cavity, eyelights fuzzed around the edges again. 

“... it ain’t... technically bones.” He said, gaze lingering on the empty space between the machine’s two pillars... the gateway that, just over a week ago, Bones had come through, that Skull’d come through... that he’d come through. “he’s a great guy. got a bit of a frightnin’ face, but... he’s real sweet dude. just like skull” 

“Skull took him to his first appointment for his teeth this morning. They scanned and photographed his mouth, he’ll have braces in a few weeks. Sans is paying for it.” 

“... sometimes i wonder how sans affords all of this.” Red said, a slight lilt of suspicion in his voice. 

“He always seems to have a pit of money for everything, no matter what it is. He says it’s from patents from his tech...” You shrugged. “Pap and I have just learnt to not question or worry about it.” 

... That made him chuckle. 

... 

“... So... what’s really been bothering you?” 

... 

He ran his free hand down his face. 

“... bones is... he’s just so nice to me.” 

... You weren’t sure why that was a problem, so you elected not to speak and just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. 

He averted his gaze from the machine. “... i never... had that relationship with my bro. i never got to be a brother. i just fucked it up...” 

“... What do you mean you fucked it up?” 

... Red appeared to... shrink in on himself a little. His eyelights got sharper, and his hand on your waist seemed to be trying very hard not to squeeze in nervousness. 

“... i wasn’t...” He shut his sockets. “... i was still a kid when i ran away with him, y’know? i didn’t know how to raise another kid properly. it was just me an’ him. i thought the only thing that mattered was being strong. i wanted him to be strong... i wanted him to rely on himself, and not need anybody else... and the worst part is? it worked. he doesn't.” 

... He hung his head. 

“... bones is so nice to me. i can’t stand it. whenever i look at him, or even sans’ papyrus... all i can think is that i shoulda been kinder to my own bro.” 

... 

You didn’t know what to say to that. You put a hand over the one on your waist, gently. 

... He stared at the machine a bit more. 

... 

“... do ya think... i could try to bring him through too?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't actually have to change anything on this one but, completion and all!
> 
> Also please remember to check out [the original chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229902/chapters/59400712), there's often fanart links in the end notes and it's where comments/kudos go!

**Author's Note:**

> I am not the author of this work! Llamagoddess is, and you can view the original (where you should shower her with praises and kudos!!) [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229902).
> 
> Several months ago, I got Llama's permission to post this version, in which the only difference is that the reader is never explicitly gendered, a few mentions of body parts have been neutered appropriately. (And a handful of typos I caught along the way).
> 
> To Llama: Thank you for letting me do this! <3 I'm sorry it took so long.


End file.
